General Jack Year Four
by Flatkatsi
Summary: Jack begins his career as an ambassador.
1. Looking Up

Looking Up – General Jack Year Four Part One

"If you hold your arms like this," Thor said as he demonstrated, "and pivot your hips slightly, you will find it easier."

Doing as he suggested, I was pleased to finally manage the twist and turn, smoothly coming to a halt beside him.

"Did the council talk to the Ghi'tain ambassador about my visit? If it's been given the okay I thought I'd schedule it for next week." I knew Thor was comfortable conversing in Earth time, unlike his fellow Asgard. "I should be ready to travel by then. Eriffer gave me the results of the latest tests." I couldn't resist spinning slowly as I spoke, but stopped when Thor gave me a rather pointed stare. "The treatment seems to finally be working. I should be back to normal within a few days."

I ignored Thor's mutter, just catching the words "Odin help us." but made a mental note to do some research into Asgard religious beliefs and send it to Daniel.

Much though I hated the daily dose of drugs administered by rather large and surprisingly old-fashioned needles, and the hours of sleep I needed after them, it was worth it to finally be rid of the debilitating mood swings and depression. At first it had seemed the problem was too hard even for the Asgard medics, my waking moments filled with more and more frequent flashbacks. Each time I experienced one I fought with myself to dispel the self-loathing that followed. Knowing why it was happening made things a little easier, but only a little as logic gave way to the instinct to just crawl into a hole and die.

This was exactly what Daniel had been so worried about. But he'd also been right about something else – Thor hadn't let me do it. For such a tiny creature, Thor had been a towering presence, there whenever he was able to take time from his duties. He dragged me out of that hole and made me think about something other than my own problems, doing the whole tourist sightseeing thing, showing me as much of his home as he could in the limited times between treatments.

I'll give the Asgard credit – they were very careful to not be seen staring, but I did feel like a sort of nine day wonder every time I set foot outside the medical facility. It was odd as I wasn't the only alien walking around their planet. I had seen some very strange beings that made the little grey Asgard look positively normal, even some other humans – or at least I thought they were – but it was always me that was the center of very polite attention. When I finally asked, Thor had been quite matter-of-fact about it. I was the first human ambassador, and as such, was a source of much speculation. I had to wonder if that was the complete truth, or if he was holding something back.

Then, as Eriffer and his team refined their treatment, learning as they went, a balance was found. Gradually, I came back to myself, finding a peace I hadn't felt for months. Waking after nights of dreamless sleep, I began to believe I would win, that I would beat this thing – that finally the last vestiges of Ramsey's presence were gone.

I did a happy little jig at the thought, moving across the large room and back again, executing a forward tuck. Yeap – I'd so got the hang of this. I went into a pleasant little daydream of retiring and opening a chain of gyms, complete with Asgard rehabilitation facilities. World-wide coverage, franchises, videos, merchandize, ball caps, scarves, sunglasses - .even a range of toys. Dollar signs started floating past me.

And were joined by Thor as he did a perfect reverse three and a half somersault with a half twist, stopping an inch from my head.

"He is pleased with your progress?"

"Very. Tomorrow's treatment will be the last, then he'll run a few more tests over the next week or so just to confirm the results, but he seems pretty positive." I spun again. "And my knees are even better than normal. They haven't been this good since my parachute mishap in the 80s." I decided to demonstrate, diving rapidly.

I was born to fly.

Thor paced me, accelerating just before we reached the bottom and positioned himself beneath me. I think he had forgotten I was a pilot.

I pulled out of the dive with twist of my legs and a flap of my arms, and came to a perfect landing on the gravity pad.

"So – the Ghi'tain visit?"

"The ambassador has agreed. His council leader has expressed a great deal of interest in meeting the Earth ambassador. They have never had close contact with humans. You should be prepared for many rather personal questions – the Ghi'tains are a very curious people." He smiled as I laughed, clearly thinking back, as I was, to the first time I had met the Asgard, when I had said the same thing about my own race.

The Ghi'tain ambassador was one of the beings I had encountered on my walks with Thor – walks I now realised had also been carefully designed to build up my strength. The ambassador and I had hit it off immediately, which was odd when you considered that I couldn't even come close to pronouncing the name of the five foot tall insect-like creature whose wings hung like thin spider webs from four long arms.

I was looking forward to seeing their civilization. Brymer had been very excited when I mentioned the possibility of visiting their planet – apparently very few Asgard had been allowed on Ghi'tain, and no other races.

I just had to clear it with my own superiors. Although what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

I waved my arms and rose until I could touch the transparent ceiling, and staring out at the brilliance of the Orilla night sky began humming 'In the Hall of the Mountain King' – just seemed appropriate somehow.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

I woke to the sound of the communication system giving its insistent beep – it didn't seem like you could get away from telephones even in a distant galaxy. I shoved Garmr aside and shook my right arm to get some feeling back into it, grimacing as pins and needles began to race along it.

"O'Neill." I spoke into the air, my voice stopping the noise.

"We have received a message for you, General, from the SGC. They ask that you contact them as soon as possible"

Interesting. This was the first contact I'd had except for some standard reports I'd sent back basically just so they'd know I was settling in. Naturally I'd left a lot of details out – well, actually, nearly every detail.

"Thank you. Put it through when I've dressed."

I threw on jeans and a shirt, not bothering to get my uniform out of the closet, and gave my face a quick wash to help wake up, before giving the okay. Within a few seconds I was standing in the briefing room of the SGC.

"Hank." I concealed a smirk when Landry jumped at the sound of my voice.

"Jack, I didn't expect to be answered so soon. If you could wait a minute while I get the others back in?"

"Sure." I pulled up a chair from beside my bed and sat back, prepared to wait.

When Hank returned with Doctor Lam and sat down I decided to find out what the hell was going on.

"Hank? What's so urgent?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, Jack, could you hold your questions for just a bit longer. There's still ..." He stopped as the briefing room door opened. I sat up straighter, resisting the urge to stand, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"General O'Neill." General Vidrine, followed by Colonel MacKenzie, made his way to the head of the table. He gave me a searching look as he pulled out a chair, commenting as he sat, "You're out of uniform."

I was way too old for this crap. And way too ornery.

"I'm dressed. Given that it's the equivalent to 3am here and you woke me from a sound sleep I think you should be thankful I bothered to do that." I raised an eyebrow and followed it up with "Sir." I plastered a patently insincere smile on my face and continued, "We could delay this for half an hour. That should give me plenty of time to get myself more appropriately attired."

"No, that won't be necessary." Vidrine placed a briefcase on the table as he spoke and began to remove several files. "I didn't take the time difference into account when I called this meeting."

I noticed he didn't apologise so felt no need to make a polite response.

"A meeting I had no prior warning of. What's on the agenda?" As if I didn't know, especially with MacKenzie there.

Vidrine pulled a red covered folder from amongst the rest and began turning the pages while I shrove to stop myself drumming my fingers on the chair arm. It was only when Landry gave an obvious cough that he looked up and spoke.

"I have here the full report from Doctor Kasanji at Peterson of your visits with him." He waited for a second, obviously expecting a response, but continued when he got none. "It makes very disturbing reading."

"How so?" I smiled pleasantly, very grateful Hammond had already given me the news during my visit to Earth, and watched as he exchanged glances with MacKenzie. I saw MacKenzie try to conceal his own answering smile by looking down quickly.

"You experienced these flashbacks and symptoms of post traumatic stress while in command of the most sensitive military base on this planet. And you accepted a position as Earth representative to our most important offworld ally while still experiencing what is a severe mental illness, an illness you are still suffering from."

MacKenzie winced at his terminology. Vidrine wasn't exactly being politically correct.

"Excuse me a moment." I stood and walked into my living area to the food dispenser and pressed the buttons for a strong black coffee. "Sorry, I'm barely awake and if you want to have a sensible discussion with me at this time in the morning, with no opportunity to review the documents you're quoting, then I need something a little more stimulating that a quick wash." I moved slowly, taking my time to give myself a chance to calm down and work out my response.

I took a sip of the hot liquid and let it warm me. The Asgard had analysed the coffee I brought with me, and replicated it as closely as they could. If it were possible I'd say the result was even better than the original. It certainly packed a powerful kick.

I relaxed back into the chair. "Firstly, I was not in command of the SGC while ill. I contacted my immediate superior, General Hammond, as soon as I was aware of the problem and took medical leave soon after." I gave a slight nod in Vidrine's direction. "But I'm sure you know that. I'm surprised General Hammond isn't here."

"He was unavailable."

"I see." I took another sip of my coffee, holding it tightly as Garmr stuck his head in my lap. "As to taking the position with the Asgard – the Asgard high council was fully aware of my illness when they requested my appointment. General Hammond briefed them fully."

"Actually, General O'Neill, he approached them."

What?

Vidrine continued, pointing to a file. "I have evidence that he and Commander Thor conferred extensively before your appointment and that it was in fact, your illness that was the main reason the position of ambassador was created. My sources tell me that ..." He looked down and read from the file, "General O'Neill has shown signs of extreme depression and General Hammond held grave fears that O'Neill would take his own life. He approached Commander Thor for help and between them decided you would be safer in Orilla under Asgard care." He looked up again. "What do you have to say to this, General? Is your appointment merely a pretence?"

A weight pressed suddenly against my leg and Garmr gave an annoyed growl. I wasn't the only one who wanted to go back to bed. I gave him a push with my leg to shut him up while keeping my eyes firmly on Vidrine. I was only thankful he'd waited so long to confront me with this – even last week my response would have been completely different. Now all I felt was gratefulness to Thor and George for what they did.

"I have no knowledge of the Asgard's motives for appointing me as Earth ambassador, General. You'll have to take that up with them and with General Hammond. Regardless of the motives for my appointment, I intend to carry it out to the best of my ability and do my best to represent my planet honorably." I reached out and put the now empty coffee mug on the small table at my side. "As to my illness – I will send you an update for my file. The Asgard identified a chemical imbalance and have been able to correct it. The final treatment was yesterday. Perhaps you would like to have your doctors read that information before making any decision on my ability to represent Earth here or anywhere else." I gave him another thin smile. "I could ask the medics here to simplify their report so that you can better understand it."

Vidrine opened his mouth, his expression extremely displeased to put it mildly, and I had the fleeting thought that maybe I shouldn't be quite so snarky. Fortunately I was saved by the bell – literally.

There was a chime indicating someone was at my door – very odd considering the early hour.

"Excuse me a moment." I turned away from the briefing room and activated the door intercom. "O'Neill here."

The lilting language of the Ghi'tain sang through the com. "I saw you were awake, Ambassador, and thought we could confer about your visit."

Wondering how he/she/it had known I was awake, I opened the door and stood aside so he – I had decided to simplify matters by designating the ambassador as a 'he' – could glide in. "I'm speaking to my home world at the moment, but if you wouldn't mind waiting ..." I indicated a chair, not one hundred percent sure he could even sit, but he waved a wing in a gesture I now knew to be the equivalent of a nod, and folded himself into it, tucking his wings neatly around himself.

"Sorry, General Vidrine, may I introduce the ambassador for the planet Ghi'tain. He doesn't understand English, so we can speak freely, but we will have to be brief. Where were we?" It wasn't until the silence had lasted several seconds that I realised the watching humans were still coming to terms with the presence in my room of a large insect.

Hank Landry was the first to break the silence. "You speak their language?"

I nodded. "Just a few phrases. It's easy enough to pick up once you understand the syntax."

There were more glances and pointed looks exchanged.

The ambassador didn't look too interested in meeting the others, he was far more interested in tickling Garmr behind the ears. For some reason the werga liked the Ghi'tain - which was something completely out of character for the irritable, bad tempered animal.

It was time to finish this travesty of a meeting – witchhunt would be more like it. Why give Vidrine any more ammunition to demand my recall to Earth – he had enough as it was.

"I'm sorry, but I do have to finish this up. Was there anything else you wanted? I'll send those medical files as soon as I can and maybe we can reschedule for ..." I made a show of looking at my watch – still on Earth time. "Say, tomorrow at 0900?"

Vidrine didn't look too happy, but the others nodded pleasantly and Lam took the chance to ask me how my knees were. I quickly reassured her; pleased someone had bothered to ask. It was with a sense of relief that I terminated the call.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

Although I had plenty to occupy myself with until the following morning, I couldn't help my thoughts continually going to the coming meeting. I fully expected to be recalled and find my career flushed down the can. Oh well, as I often thought, I was always in the shit, only the depth varied, and this time it was pretty deep. I just hoped I hadn't dragged George in with me.

I took the time to go for a short run before the meeting and then ate a proper meal, reading over some reports as I did so. Assuming the worst usually meant it happened, and I wasn't going to fall into that trap. Then I put on my dress blues for the first time in weeks.

To my surprise the next meeting wasn't being held at the SGC. I found myself standing in the Oval Office, with President Hayes and Generals Jumper and Maynard. Vidrine was nowhere in sight.

"Jack, it's good to see you looking so well." The President gestured for us all to sit and I took the chair I had placed within the hologram's range as he continued. "We've received General Vidrine's report and I have to say I couldn't have been more pleased by it."

"Sir?" He wanted me out? I really hadn't expected that.

"He recommends your appointment as ambassador to the Asgard be confirmed and that you be commended for your professional handling of your responsibilities despite your recent illness. He further recommends your medical file be updated to reflect your complete recovery and that there are no further concerns regarding your continued career with the Air Force." He smiled broadly, obviously recognising my total shock. "In fact, he also recommended you be promoted to Lieutenant General to better reflect your current position – a suggestion General Jumper is fully in agreement with."

"Congratulations, Jack." John Jumper looked like he wanted to slap me on the back and was finding it hard to work out how to do it. "A third star – well deserved."

I blinked.

"I think General O'Neill is a bit stunned." Maynard was also smiling, in fact the three men were all looking rather pleased with themselves.

"Ah, yes sir. I expected to be asked to retire." As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to swallow them back down. Why give them ideas.

As if it hadn't occurred to them already.

But then all three of them burst out laughing.

Maybe they were alien impostures? Wasn't there an episode of the Simpsons where – oh, shut up Jack and just go with the flow!

I waited for the general hilarity to die down then smiled graciously. "Thank you, Mister President. I am honored by your faith in me."

Things were looking up at last.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

TBC


	2. Food on the Run

Food on the Run

"We will take that under consideration, Ambassador. Thank you for your time."

Now where had I heard that before? It's amazing how alike politicians are, even in galaxies millions of light years from each other.

Giving a sketchy bow of the head – the all purpose greeting/farewell that seemed to fit most occasions and most species on Orilla – I withdrew from the council chamber and began the short walk back to my accommodation, already planning how to word my report, although it was anyone's guess when it would be delivered.

Contact with Earth was spasmodic at best, depending as it did on an Asgard vessel being within reasonable distance of the planet so as to relay messages. Of course, for the Asgard a reasonable distance was far further than I could even contemplate, but I couldn't assume my messages would be delivered as soon as I asked – sometimes it was days, or even weeks before they were passed on.

Which meant I was basically on my own here.

The purpose for my visit to the Asgard High Council was a case in point – my trip to Ghi'tain, a trip which had been given the okay by my own government. For some reason the Asgard had withdrawn their approval, and despite the Ghi'tain ambassador's strong protests, refused to change their mind. I wasn't going anywhere. My own protests to the council had also obviously fallen on deaf ears. Oh yes, they were polite and had listened very patiently to my arguments, but it was clear the decision was made – no trip offworld for Ambassador O'Neill, and no explanation given as to why.

And Thor was nowhere to be found. Off on some hush-hush mission was all the response I was given, with a thinly veiled insult from one of the junior ranks in his office when I asked. It seemed I should consider myself lucky to be told that much.

The day was clear with a very light breeze doing little more than shifting the leaves of the strangely shaped trees lining the boulevard. I wasn't the only one on the long white pavement, small groups of Asgard passing me with the normal polite stares. I ignored them and hurried on, looking forward to getting out of the uniform I'd donned for the occasion.

"O'Neill – wait." The sound of claws skittering had me turning. Bob was hurrying toward me, his long limbs eating up the distance between us. Short Asgard bodies skipped sideways with rather uncoordinated jumps as he approached, their large eyes blinking furiously.

I had arbitrarily decided to name the Ghi'tain ambassador something short enough to remember and easy to pronounce, and he didn't appear to mind – in fact he seemed to find it rather amusing. I didn't tell him that I'd chosen 'Bob' because of the way his head moved when he walked.

He came right to the point, as was his custom. "You were successful?"

"No, the council refuses to let me go to your planet, nor will they give me any reason why they've changed their minds."

He shook his head back and forward on his narrow neck. "I also could get no explanation. I shall lodge an official protest. It is unprecedented that they will not allow an ambassador to travel freely when invited to do so. No other species is restricted in this way."

"I wish I knew what the problem was, but they're not talking." We had reached my door and I offered him an invitation. "Would you like to come in? We can discuss this further over lunch."

"Yes, perhaps together we can devise a strategy to change the Asgards' minds."

Placing my palm against the control pad, I waited for the door to open, stepping in as soon as it did so.

I left Bob in the lounge room and took off my jacket, hanging it and my tie in the closet. I then threw on the jeans and long sleeved t-shirt I had put ready for when I got home.

"What would you like to drink?" I asked, as I returned, waiting to program his choice into the dispenser.

"Whatever you are having, O'Neill. I like to try new tastes."

Which put me in a little dilemma. I had no idea if any of my Earth selections would be poisonous to his alien physiology. Visions of disposing of dead ambassadorial bodies by giving them to Garmr to eat flashed through my mind. Thinking for a moment, I decided to play it safe and taped in the code for a local Asgard beverage I had seen him drink before.

I held it out. "I like this – it's a bit like an Earth drink called orange juice."

"Then can we not try this orange juice you mention instead?"

I decided to come clean and explained the problem but all Bob did was give a wave of his second pair of legs.

"It is not a problem." He opened his small mouth and extended a long, thin tongue. "I can test for poison before tasting. We Ghi'tain feast on many foods you would think inedible and are happy for the chance to try as many as possible."

"You're sure?"

"Of course."

It only took a second to get two tall glasses of orange juice from the dispenser and, after sticking the tip of his tongue into it, Bob was soon sucking up the drink with obvious enjoyment.

"This is plant based?" I nodded and he continued. "I usually prefer protein based beverages, but this is delicious."

"Protein based? You mean like milk?"

I could see he was puzzled, so I gave a short explanation of milk sources on Earth. To my surprise he gave a shiver of distaste.

"My people would never consider using the bodily fluid of mammals for food. No, I meant the creatures themselves."

For a moment I was taken aback by his answer, but then I started thinking of the various beef extract drinks on the market back home and soups based on meat stock and nodded.

"We have a few of those as well, but plant based drinks are far more common."

We both sat, sipping our orange juice as I wondered why I had assumed the Ghi'tains were vegetarians. Not that it mattered.

It was just as I was about to get us some lunch when I realised why I'd had the nagging feeling that had been poking me in the back since I walked in my door.

Garmr.

It wasn't like him to be so – well, not in your face. He always made his presence known, especially when I was entertaining guests.

"Excuse me. I'm wondering where Garmr's got to." I stood and went to the back door, checking the small area at the rear. There weren't a lot of places for a werga to hide, even if he was the sort of creature to feel the need to hide from anything – except maybe when laying in wait for prey.

Oh god!

I trotted quickly to the six foot high back fence, trying not to panic. It was as I was standing on tip toes and peering over it at the wide parklands beyond that Bob's voice came from the back door.

"I'm very sorry, O'Neill. I have just received word that I am needed. We will have to postpone our discussion, and our meal."

Dropping back down a few inches to the ground I turned and managed an understanding smile.

"No worries. I'll let you know if I hear anything more from the Asgard before we meet again." I re-entered the house, walking with him to the front door. "Call me when you're free."

"I will do so, O'Neill. May your path be smooth."

I gave a small bow and the correct response. "And your journey successful."

To be honest, I couldn't wait for Bob to be gone so that I could find Garmr.

He'd been a little put out by the meals I'd given him lately and had actually turned his nose up at the plate of jertd fruit I'd given him this morning. He'd liked it the last four meals I'd served it to him. The damn animal was far too fussy. It wasn't like there was a lot of choice of meat sources available on Orilla.

I ran back toward the fence, thinking about the many small grey Asgard meat sources walking around the park totally unsuspecting.

A large body flew over the wall, landing several feet from it.

I just had time to see a look that was remarkably like a smirk on the werga's face when he opened his mouth and dropped the object hanging limply from it onto the ground at my feet.

A rabbit?

Surely not.

Prodding the lump of fur with my toe I started bending to get a closer look. Sure looked like a rabbit. Long floppy ears, soft brown fur, and small cute little nose. Poor thing...

The bunny leapt to its feet and lunged, clenching its large, sharp teeth in my leg.

Crap! Before I could react it was gone, Garmr hot on its heels. I just had time to see its little white cottontail disappearing through the door into the house when my view was blocked by Garmr as he entered in pursuit. I ignored the blood dripping from the bite in my calf and followed.

Now, the house the Asgard allocated to me wasn't huge, but it certainly was big enough for me, consisting of two bedrooms, a sitting area, a formal dining room for those times I needed to be all ambassadorial, a study, a bathroom, and an eat-in kitchen. I had unpacked all the belongings I'd brought with me from Earth and the place looked remarkably homey.

One thing it wasn't designed for was hunting.

I spun, almost falling, as brown fur flew between my legs and a gigantic steely grey body brushed past, whacking me with his tail.

"Garmr! Leave it alone!"

A bowl fell with a crash as a bookshelf shook. Paws scrabbled for purchase on the smooth floor surface, leaving long scratches.

"Garmr!"

Why the hell I thought he would listen to me I had no idea, but it was all I could think to do, other than stand, spinning in place like a whirling dervish. Then I spotted the bunny as it scurried into the bathroom. Garmr was on the other side of the room and I got there before him, slamming the door in his face and trapping his prey inside.

Unfortunately for me the werga didn't have time to stop, crashing into me and catapulting me to the ground in a tangle of arms, legs and fur.

I lay there for a moment, before opening my eyes and staring back at his face looking down into mine. A large drop of drool landed on my cheek.

"Get off me, you stupid bastard!" I pushed, hoping to move his weight off my chest enough to allow me to take a breath.

I needed to breathe to swear.

He moved just enough and I proceeded to let him know exactly what I thought of him in several languages, both Earth and alien. I think it was the insult to his mother couched in the artistic imagery of Cantonese that finally got to him. He growled, long strings of drool hanging dangerously down, and stood, giving a massive shake then looking back over his shoulder at me with a fierceness that promised retribution.

I grabbed hold of his wiry fur and hauled myself up, muttering yet another curse at the pain from the bunny bite.

Speaking of which...

Limping over to the communication console, I called one of the Asgard assigned to me as liaison with the council and explained what had happened.

I'd hoped for a wildlife rescue person or something. Instead I got a team of Asgard wearing masks and what looked like hazmat suits.

Ten of them.

"But it's just a rabbit!"

Their leader pulled me aside, moving me out of the way, and sat me down in a chair as far from the bathroom door as possible.

"I do not know what these rabbits are that you talk of, but this is a very vicious creature, renowned for their cruelty when hunting."

"Hunting? They hunt?"

The cute little bunnies hunted? Shades of 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail.'

"They do. I am surprised your werga is unharmed. Their bite can be fatal."

My reply was instinctive. "He isn't my werga."

Wait!

"Fatal?" Rolling up my trousers, I extended my leg. "It bit me."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Crap.

Crap.

Crap.

Crap.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Three days later I limped home, the medical facility only able to do so much. Or at least that's what Eriffer told me.

He was a bit too much like Janet Fraiser for my liking. I suspected he wanted to be sure I would obey his orders to not overtax the healing wound. I wouldn't put it past him to leave a bit of healing to occur naturally just to slow me down.

Garmr was waiting, and he didn't look at all sorry.

I ignored him, after giving him a hard thump on the back. Damn creature seemed to like it. He looked positively angelic.

Moving very carefully, I got changed and into bed, welcoming the familiar feeling of my soft Earth pillow.

I was just drifting off when I heard the sound of two sets of scrambling paws coming from the bathroom.

Oh for crying out loud!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

TBC


	3. Uncertain Steps

Sorry I haven't updated for so long. I was trying to write another story, but it just wasn't working.

Uncertain Steps

I was kidding myself. No matter how much I tried to persuade myself otherwise, Orilla was not my home and never would be.

God I was homesick!

To be able to call for a pizza, walk down to the local store, have a beer in my favourite bar.

To have friends to talk to – true friends who didn't need to have the smallest detail explained before they got the point. Friends you could mention someone you met five years before to and have them remember. Friends you could talk with about nothing and could annoy and tease.

Friends you could laugh with.

I was lonely.

The only 'person' I could call a friend here was off somewhere so secret I wasn't allowed to be told, with no sign of him returning in the near future. And apart from Thor, who was there? An insectoid alien I'd named 'Bob' and a poor substitute for a proper dog.

Sure, there were others I'd met, but no one I could call a friend.

No one I could confide in.

And that, I knew, was the real problem. I could sense undercurrents all around me, things going on I couldn't understand. Things I would have been reluctant to mention to Thor even if he were here. There was the way I was stared at wherever I went and the restrictions that had been placed on my movements. The visit to Ghi'tain was still on hold and every other attempt I'd made to visit other worlds in the Ida Galaxy had been stymied. Nor had I been able to contact home in over three weeks. Oh, sure, there had been excuses and apologies, but no real explanations – just vague talk of other priorities and prevailing conditions.

Meaningless words flung up as a smoke screen meant to fool a not overly bright alien.

I'd even gone so far as to tell the Council I needed to return home urgently. They had looked disconcerted, then their bulbous heads nudged each other as they conferred in whispers. At the end of the discussion the High Councillor nodded solemnly and agreed. Tomorrow I could make my trip through the gate to Earth. For a short while I reconsidered my growing concerns and decided I was worrying about nothing.

The next day, as I was packing a few essentials to take back with me, a call came in. The Asgard High Council regrets to inform you the Stargate was unavailable for personal use at this time. We regret any inconvenience caused and will notify you when your trip can be taken. Your trip is important to us. And would you like to have a new cell phone for free and enjoy a better sex life with our miracle drugs.

You know the sort of thing. I didn't believe it when I heard it on my own planet and I sure as hell didn't believe it here.

I was beginning to feel like a prisoner and I never did like being held somewhere against my will.

Everything I'd been considering came together and a giant 'Danger' sign started flashing.

That was it – I was getting out of here.

xoxoxoxoxo

My first objective was to work out an address for a planet nearby I could easily gate to and then home to Earth, maybe with several stops along the way if the distance was too great to do it in one trip.

Then I needed access to a stargate. The gate I had travelled through to get to the Asgards' planet was strangely enough in a room off a rather featureless corridor in a building somewhat removed from any others of importance. This led me to believe there was more than one gate available to them and I had been permitted use of the tradesman's entrance.

And I'd rather not be spotted leaving, or for that matter, returning.

Once I had achieved those things the rest was a piece of cake.

Right.

Fortunately I was allowed use of the Asgard information repositories via the computer thingy in my office, but I couldn't be too obvious. Stealthy, that's what I needed to be. I was sure my computer usage was monitored even though it would be against every rule for the treatment of alien diplomats. Did that mean I thought the Asgard didn't trust me? Not really. But I didn't trust them. They were hiding too much.

I had to do this alone.

xoxoxoxoxo

There was one good thing about the obstacles that had been put in the way of my doing my job - infrequent meetings with the High Council and no chance to go offworld meant I had very little real work to do. I could devote much of my time to the tasks.

I discovered the route home was easy. A couple of hops within the Asgards' home galaxy and then a jump to the Milky Way and I was in the neighbourhood of Earth. Of course it was a damned big neighbourhood, but considering the distance I would travel to get there the planet I had chosen for my final jump was practically around the corner. It was this hop within my own galaxy that were the risky one as the information I managed to find for the planet mainly consisted of vague scientific gobbledygook, even less comprehensible to me than I was use to, and radiation readings. No note of any native life forms or possible civilisations. I just hoped that was because there weren't any – at least near the gate – and that it wasn't just Asgard superiority coming into play. They might have handy beaming technology and ways to hide themselves, but I didn't.

Still – I wouldn't be around very long, just enough time to dial out again.

When I wasn't checking out planets, I was as casually as possible wandering through as many buildings as I could access, trying to look as much like a gawking half-witted alien as I could – something I was sure Daniel would have told me I managed extremely well even when not trying. But that same polite staring went on everywhere, even when I made a repeat visit to the same place several days in a row, No one came up to me and asked what I was doing there, but they certainly watched me with as much evidence of curiosity as an Asgard could show. Sometimes they came closer and just looked up, their eyes blinking in time with the lights on the strange machines these buildings seemed full of.

Hell, they even looked pleased to see me! Not what I wanted at all.

Thinking it could be Garmr they were ogling, I began leaving him at home when I went out, but nothing changed except that I came back to a house looking like a burglar had meticulously picked through it and thrown only the items most calculated to annoy me on the floor.

And don't ask me how he got up to the top of the closet in my bedroom, pulled down a suitcase, unzipped it, and took out my spare boots. I suppose the smell of leather could have attracted him, but why chew those boots and not the ones sitting in plain sight by the door.

It looked like the only chance I would get to use the gate without being seen was night. At least here Garmr was helpful as he gave me the perfect excuse to be out well after dark. All those walkies I'd complained about suddenly became exactly the alibi I needed. I checked it out, and at night the building housing the gate was basically unmanned, with what looked like just a caretaker there, maybe for unexpected, late arriving, travellers.

Unfortunately, I would have to take Garmr with me – him being my only excuse for wandering around at night.

But how to get the Asgard on duty out of the way? It looked like I might need some help after all.

xoxoxoxoxo

"I do not understand."

The Ghi'tain ambassador folded himself on to the slab of gleaming white stone set near the left side of the elaborate sculpture, ignoring the startled looks from the others walking by. Fortunately no one had the nerve to tell him he was sitting on a work of art.

"I need to get the Earth," I repeated for what seemed like the twentieth time.

He nodded. "Yes?"

"So I have to get access to the stargate."

"You say the Asgard will not allow you to leave?" I could hear the puzzlement in his voice as he strained to understand.

"Remember a few days ago when I told you they said the gate couldn't be used."

He nodded again, the edges of his wings clicking together behind his back. "Yes, but I thought it to be only temporary. I have travelled between my home world and Orilla twice since we spoke. This is unprecedented."

Giving a grateful sigh that I seemed to finally be getting through to him, I joined him on the slab and leaned close, whispering.

"Will you help me?"

"Of course, O'Neill. You had only to ask."

His voice was loud in the relative quiet of the park. I shushed him, but his confused expression reminded me that he probably had no idea what 'shush' meant.

"Not so loud. We don't know who might be listening."

"Listening?"

I sighed again and began to fill in the gaps – explaining my plan. I had worked out how to distract the Asgard on duty and get into the building holding the gate, but there was no way I could see to hide the gate's use. An unauthorised activation while Bob, my prime method of distraction, was in the vicinity would direct the spotlight immediately on my own movements. It was no secret I was friendly with the Ghi'tain.

It wouldn't take the superior brain of an Asgard long to work out I was the one who used the gate. Hell – it could be worked out by a first-grader.

So I had reached that part of the plan and was pondering whether I truly wanted to risk alienating such important allies, when Bob clicked one of his mouth pinchers. I turned my attention back to him.

"Yes?"

"I do not understand."

I quickly swallowed my groan.

"What is it you don't understand?"

"Why do you not erase the information the gate holds on recent activations? Then no one would know it had been used."

I stared at him.

He merely stared back.

"You know how to do that?"

He shook his head. "I know how, but cannot. You, however can, easily."

I looked down at the pristine white gravel under my feet and took almost a perverse delight in drawing the toe of my boot through it, leaving a long trench of light brown dirt exposed.

"Haven't got a clue. Now, if I had Carter with me. . ."

"You are descended from the ones you call the Ancients, are you not?"

And what might that have to do with anything, one might ask? Except I didn't, for two reasons – one; how did he know and two; what good was that knowledge? Not being given to subtlety, I came straight out with it.

"Why?"

Bob must have caught on to the concept of stealth, because he moved closer, the webbing of his wings filling and growing until they towered over the bench and enclosed us both in a cacoon of darkness. I couldn't help giving a small shudder in the enveloping black as a thought passed through my mind. Was this real or some paranoid delusion conjured up by my still healing psyche?

I was snapped back to the reality of the situation by his next words.

"The stargate has concealed controls which can be operated by one with the builders' blood. You can erase any record of your presence."

I felt his breath ghost across my cheek, carrying with it the scent of flesh, and as we sat entwined I wondered if I was right to put my trust and my life in the hands of this creature.

"How did you know? That I have the gene?"

Within the gloom came a movement, enough for my blind eyes to visualise a mouth, its pinchers mere moments from them. A click, and another, and I held myself still, not even blinking.

"We all know." Soft words, now a hissing trace of sound almost lost before I heard them. "That is why we stare."

xoxoxoxoxo

I made my escape three days later.

As the Ghi'tain fell from the sky just far enough from the gate building's entrance for his cries for help to still be heard, I held my hand upon the cold grey of the massive gate and waited while it glowed, the warmth seeping into the alien metal. Then I stood back and pressed the symbols for the first address, slamming my hand down on the red center with a finality that caused it to smart.

A few steps and I was gone, Garmr leaping through on my heels.

On the second leg I took time to rest, settling my back against a tree and taking a drink from the pack at my side.

I had done it, but what I had done I wasn't exactly sure of yet.

The lie I'd told of observing a private rite of cleansing that required at least eight days of complete solitude within my dwelling seemed to have been accepted. My Asgard liaison had expressed his surprise at learning of my strict adherence to the discipline of the Jedi religion, but was more than cooperative. I now had several days to report to my superiors and try and convince them there was more to the situation than my feelings of unease would suggest.

Already planning my strategy, I shoved the water bottle back into its pocket, shouldered my pack, and dialed the next address – the one that would take me to my own galaxy.

We stepped through and as I took one desperate breath of the thick, soupy atmosphere and heard the yelling of excited voices, I wished the Asgards' cost cutting hadn't extended to surveys of obscure planets in the Milky Way.

My breath ran out as I hit the center of the DHD, my clogging brain having managed, I hoped, to dial the Alpha Site rather than the SGC. No way could I get my fumbling fingers to tap the code into the GDO, even if I could have remembered it.

I staggered back to the gate as the wormhole formed and fell, a massive push from behind throwing me forward to tumble down into the cold.

xoxoxoxoxo

TBC


	4. Crash Landing

Sorry it's been so long, but work and a very nasty bug of some sort conspired to make me want to do nothing but sleep!

Crash Landing

"Stay still, I'm a doctor."

I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. Or where I was. Or how I got there. In fact the only thing I was sure of was that I could barely think straight enough to remember my own name.

The possessor of the voice seemed to be kneeling next to me, which meant I was lying down. That was odd, as I couldn't remember going to sleep.

Then I took a breath – and wished I hadn't.

Damn, but it hurt. All I managed to do was start a coughing fit that didn't seem to want to stop. Within a few seconds I was struggling to draw enough air into my lungs to stop myself passing out. Hands gripped me, pulling me upright and easing the pressure on my chest just a little. My own hands came up as I involuntarily started to claw at my chest – why, I had no idea, but it seemed the thing to do at the time. There was nothing I could do to stop the people around me from grabbing them and pulling them down as hard plastic was pushed over my face. I struggled weakly, but only for a moment, because the cold puff of air became suddenly familiar and I relaxed, forcing myself to let the oxygen mask do its work.

It only took a few deep breaths for my head to start clearing. I pulled my arms free and took over the task of holding up my own weight.

A woman, wearing the ubiquitous BDUs of one of my own people, stared anxiously at me, and I realised she was the one whose hand I could feel on my shoulder, steadying me while her other hand held the portable oxygen tank that was sending me clean, welcome air.

"General O'Neill?"

It took a few seconds for the source of the voice to register on my still hazy mind and it was almost a physical wrench when I moved my eyes to the man rapidly approaching up the wide flight of steps.

It was Colonel Pierce – which meant one thing – I'd managed to get the gate address right and had ended up on P4X-650, something for which I was very, very grateful.

"Sir? What ...?"

Pulling the mask off my face, despite the protests of the woman to keep it there, I coughed, took a breath and coughed again.

Well, that was productive – not.

I tried once more and this time got out a few words.

"Long story, Colo ..." and doubled over, coughing again.

To my profound annoyance the oxygen mask was shoved back onto my face. Okay, I'll admit that the feeling of cool air in my windpipe went some way to clearing the irritation in my throat, but it didn't help my state of mind.

There was this nagging feeling that I had forgotten something.

"Keep it on, sir."

Damn woman was a mind reader. I didn't raise my hand, instead giving her my best general glare.

"Don't even think of taking it off," she snapped back at me.

Clearly no one here at the Alpha Site had the proper respect for superior officers. I must write a memo.

"What's wrong with him, Doctor?"

Hello! General over here!

"I won't know until I get him to the infirmary, sir."

I could have told the colonel that – if I had been allowed to speak.

"Do it. I'll contact Earth and tell them he's here."

Then the doctor was speaking to me, in that slow, careful voice you use for children and animals. "It's all right, sir. Just relax and let ..."

Children and animals.

Animals.

And my vague worry ticked over to become a very real concern.

Pushing the mask over my head and off, I sat up and looked around, forcing my brain to ignore the spinning sensation in my head. It didn't take more than a few moments to find what I was searching for. A few feet down the steps a large grey shape lay totally motionless, with two Alpha Base personnel standing over it.

"Sir –."

Ignoring both Pierce and the doctor's attempts to restrain me, I staggered to my feet and reeled toward Garmr.

One of the SF's looked up at the movement and gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, General. It's dead."

Dead.

"How?" I kept moving, but I didn't seem to be getting any closer.

The doctor was hanging off my arm like a limpet. She gave the werga a long stare as if it was the first time she had seen it. "Probably the same reason you have so much trouble breathing, General. Were you exposed to a gas of some kind?"

My blurred vision sharpened as her words sunk in. I spun, tripped, and picked myself up again before they could react, grabbing the oxygen equipment with shaking hands. I managed to move it most of the way to Garmr before someone stepped in and took it from me. My first fear was unfounded - they hadn't shot him, so there was still a chance.

"No." I reached out to get it back but found my grip surprisingly weak, and the cylinder was easily dragged from my hands.

"Please let me put the mask back on you, sir, at least until we can get you to the infirmary and run some tests."

Another voice came in over top of hers. "I'll get in touch with the SGC."

The continued dizziness, combined with a strangling lack of oxygen, was making it hard for me to think, to sort out what everyone was saying, let alone move. I was seeing everything through a foggy grey that was becoming thicker by the second. The realization that I didn't have much time to explain sharpened my mind enough to form my first coherent sentences.

"Go check him. Resuscitate him. Give him oxygen. Do whatever you have to do and do it now!"

There must have been some trace of command still left in my voice, because the doctor stopped pushing the mask up.

"Why, General?" Pierce asked. "I don't understand. Didn't the creature attack you?"

"What? No, of course not. Why ...?" And the damn cough was back.

"Let Doctor Harris look after you, sir." Pierce started what was a thinly disguised attempt to get me on to the gurney that had been pushed into the room.

"No!" I couldn't shout, but I made sure the tone conveyed the anger I felt. I pushed and struggled weakly against the hands holding me, my attention fixed on the still bundle of steel-grey fur lying like a discarded rug on the cold concrete. "Get down there and do something! And don't contact the SGC or anyone else about me until I give you permission. That's an order. Do you understand, Doctor?"

"Yes, sir."

Doctor Harris looked as pissed as I was feeling, but she was at least moving in the right direction. Soon she was bent over Garmr.

"Well?" I made it most of the way to her side, with Pierce's support.

She looked up, her eyes flickering up and down as she stared at me, and I knew she was more concerned about my health than the werga's. "It's still alive - barely."

"Make sure he stays that way."

That order was the last I made for some time.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

I didn't wake like people do in the movies, accelerating from total unconsciousness to alertness in less than ten seconds. Nope, I floated in, floated out, and drifted around for a bit, barely cognisant. Voices changed from unfamiliar to welcome, and smells and sounds began to feel comfortable.

"Hey, Jack."

I mumbled a reply, knowing Daniel was watching over me, and glided off again.

It must have been some time later that things clicked into place.

Daniel?

Had Pierce contacted the SGC despite my order? Then the Asgard would know I'd left.

Crap!

It was enough to at least get my eyes open properly and my mouth forming words.

"What are you doing here?" I stared at him without moving, being positioned on my side making it far easier to look him in the eye than usual when in the infirmary.

Daniel gave me one of his annoyed glares as he pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Thanks so much, Jack. It's great to see you awake at last. I'd missed your wonderful conversation. And to answer your question, Mitchell, Teal'c and Sam are checking out the improvements to the F302s and Vala and I came along for the ride." He stopped and looked even more irritated. "Vala seems to think she's been invited because of her 'expertise'. I think General Landry just sent her along to get her away from the SGC." He leaned forward with that look on his face he got when puzzled by one of his artefacts. "Then you fell out of the gate. And speaking of falling – how did you stop the iris from closing?"

Some of the tension left me. Daniel's presence was just a coincidence. But then it piled back on me with a vengeance. Iris. Crap! Of course the Alpha site's gate had the same iris protection as the SGC's. I knew that. By rights I should be dead now, squashed against it like a bug on a windshield. I remembered not being able to concentrate enough to enter the code into my GDO and making the decision not to try for Earth. Dialing the Alpha site was instinctive, drummed into all offworld teams if they were in trouble, and I had managed to do that much. But using the GDO was just as important.

"Well? And how about explaining what you're doing here?"

How the hell had I managed to survive? I couldn't get my blurred and fuzzy brain around the problem.

"Jack? Come on – Jack."

Huh?

I opened my eyes and blinked, finding Daniel had gone from sitting to standing over me.

"I think I'd better call Doctor Harris."

I blinked again.

"General?"

Damned eyes wouldn't stay open. Now it was the doctor leaning over me, but at least Daniel was still there, standing to one side, his expression more worried than annoyed.

There was a sudden tickle of cool air in my nose and I realised I had been lying there with a nasal cannula stuck up my nostrils the whole time without noticing. I hated those things – smelt artificial and left a nasty chemical taste in your mouth – and that was without even mentioning the whifty wafty tickling.

At least I felt a little more awake now, so I gave the doctor a slight nod. She smiled back and turned from the oxygen valve to come closer.

"We're still analysing your test results, sir, but it doesn't look like the gas has any lasting effects. You'll probably experience some slight disorientation and lethargy and a tightness when you breathe, but hopefully that should pass in a few days."

I grimaced at the 'seem', 'probably' and 'should'. Throw in a 'hopefully' and I had the distinct impression she didn't know anything about what I had sucked into my lungs back on that last planet. I moved, rolling on to my back, intending to call her on it.

That's when I discovered breathing wasn't the only problem I had. And why I had been lying on my side when I woke.

It was like someone had run hot pokers over my back. I couldn't help the yelp of pain, nor could I stop myself from arching to get my back off the bed. Of course, arching didn't do anything good and I flopped back down like a beached fish, flapping ineffectually.

Daniel and the doctor both hurried to help, turning me back over on my side. I could have kissed them.

"You sustained several very long, deep gashes to your back, sir – nothing we would normally be concerned about, although they would be painful, but they are showing signs of infection, probably from the creature's claws."

Oh Christ! Garmr. That's why they thought he had attacked me.

Some of the panic I felt must have shown on my face, because Daniel was quick to reassure me.

"He's okay, Jack. Sam's checking on him now."

"Alive?"

Harris nodded. "Yes, we managed to revive him, although it was close. He was barely breathing. Doctor Jackson explained he's your pet, General? Perhaps the gas caused him to attack you."

Pet? No way was that creature my pet. Pets were pleasant companions, loyal and loving. Fun to have around. Pet!

Suddenly the memory of the fierce push was as clear as the moment it happened, and I shook my head. "Garmr didn't attack me. He shoved me through the gate. I'd be dead if it wasn't for him." Actually, it was very lucky I wasn't, the push having taken any question of using my GDO out of the equation, but that wasn't important any more. I needed them to believe me, reaching up to tug at Daniel's sleeve. "Make sure he's okay."

Instead of Daniel, Pierce's voice answered. "Relax, he's fine, sir. Colonel Carter and I have just come from there."

I searched the colonel's face, but the sight of Carter's smile behind him did more to reassure me than his words.

They both moved further into the room, but Carter hung back a little, obviously deferring to Pierce's position as base commander. He paused to look at the doctor. "Is it all right for the general to answer a few questions now, Doctor Harris?"

"Yes, sir, but I want him to get more rest, so only a few minutes."

Pierce took the chair Daniel had vacated and moved it into position near my head. I didn't wait for him to speak first.

"I don't want any word of my being here to reach the Asgard. They don't know I've left Orilla."

Pierce opened his mouth, but I knew it would be Daniel who would ask the inevitable question, so my eyes had already skipped to him by the time his words reached my ears.

"Why, Jack?"

"There's something going on – something they're hiding from us."

I could see the surprise on their faces, and I understood it. The Asgard were our allies – our friends. So I told them everything that had happened since my arrival on Orilla.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

By the end of my explanation my throat felt like it had been cut and even I could hear the desperate croak in my voice.

Nodding my thanks to the doctor, I took the water she offered and sipped it gratefully, staring over the rim of the glass at the people surrounding my bed, gauging their reactions.

"Are you sure about this, sir? Maybe there is some logical explanation."

"I'd like to think I'm wrong, Carter. If you can think of an explanation I'd be more than happy to hear it." I swallowed back a lump of thick phlegm and had to concentrate hard for a moment not to throw it back up again. "All I'm sure of is that I don't know who to trust any more, at least not on Orilla."

"What do you plan now?"

I didn't get a chance to answer Daniel. What was it about female doctors that made them so damned – well – pushy!

"He is going to stay in this infirmary." Harris didn't let me do more than open my mouth, raising her voice and completely ignoring me. "General O'Neill is, regardless of how he seems, a sick man. We have no idea what future effects the gas might have on his lungs and the infection from the injury to his back is gaining ground. Until he is well, he isn't moving. And he needs his rest."

There was silence.

It wasn't that I was intimidated. Nothing scares me. Nothing. And certainly not a wanna-be Janet clone.

I didn't argue because I was trying not to cough.

The others had no excuse, so I glared at Colonels Pierce and Carter, waiting for them to come to my rescue and tell the doctor that staying in the Alpha site infirmary wasn't on the agenda.

Instead they just nodded. Hell – Daniel had the nerve to reach over and pat me on the shoulder.

"The doctor's right, Jack. You try and get some rest while we discuss this. Okay?"

No, it wasn't okay! But to my embarrassment my intended protests degenerated into short, sharp, coughs – the sort of noise a nasty little dog makes when it wants to bite a mailman - before they could even get started.

And it was getting hot.

Crap!

I was sick, and I knew it. I felt the sure signs of a fever and dizziness that preceded hours of illness.

I was too busy being pissed with my weak body to even notice the room emptying of everyone except medical personnel.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Three days wasted and I only had about eight in total before the Asgard realised I was gone. Lying in bed wasn't finding answers. I didn't want to send a message through to Earth. It was hard enough for me to believe my own suspicions. I couldn't expect the President and the Joint Chiefs to just understand my concerns unless I spoke to them face to face. I had expected to travel to Washington, report in, formulate a plan, and head back to Orilla without being missed. Relations with the Asgard wouldn't be strained; our friendship with them wouldn't be risked unless it was felt necessary.

I had intended to fly under the radar.

That plan was totally screwed.

It didn't help that Daniel had spent the last day, the only one when I was awake enough to listen, arguing with me. Apparently the Asgard couldn't possibly be trying to hide anything. No, they never did that. Never.

Yeah – right!

I must have misinterpreted everything. After all, I wasn't known for my diplomatic skills. I'd probably risked upsetting our favourite allies for nothing. They were the Good Guys.

Daniel seemed to be far more aggressive in his speech than he use to be. Where was the mild mannered academic I first met so many years ago? When had he been replaced with someone who wanted to push his own viewpoint on everyone else? One thing that hadn't changed was the rapid firing of words that came spluttering out of him, their volume rising whenever I tried to interject. Perhaps he thought that by not giving me a chance to argue he'd won his case?

Maybe he was just playing Devil's advocate, or maybe he genuinely believed everything he was saying, but the discussion gave me some idea of the arguments I would have to contend with when I faced the President and the Joint Chiefs. It exhausted me and for once I was grateful for the medication the doc kept feeding me. She wanted me to rest up and let my severely misused lungs heal and apparently that meant making sure I spent most of my time asleep.

It wasn't until I finally snapped, telling him I didn't want to discuss it anymore, that Daniel admitted the real reason why he was so adamant the Asgard were our friends.

He signed and leaned back in his chair, his forehead creasing into a frown.

"It's just that ..."

He stopped and when he didn't continue I prompted him with a muttered 'go on', almost hoping he wouldn't.

"It just seems that we're fast running out of allies and gaining far too many enemies." He sat up again, but the frown remained, getting deeper if anything. "The Ori are winning and there doesn't seem to be anything we can do to stop them." He rubbed his eyes wearily and I saw how tired they looked, with dark circles making them appear sunken. "I'm really worried, Jack. We can't afford to alienate one of the few allies we have left who could actually help. It isn't that I don't believe you – it's just that – well, I really, really hope you've got it wrong."

I had been out of the loop when the whole Ori thing had started, and I don't think I even now fully understood the seriousness of the situation. We'd fought enemies before that seemed invincible and won. Why should they be any different? But Daniel seemed to believe they were and I trusted his judgment. So instead of, once again, arguing with my friend, I nodded and told him I could see his point of view. He fell back into a slumped posture and gave me a small smile.

"I can see yours too, Jack. Honestly."

I drifted off again, far too tired to even tell him I hoped I was wrong as well.

There were a few benefits to being stuck in the infirmary though. I got to visit with Carter and Teal'c, something I hadn't done for months. It seemed that Carter was back on SG-1 after her brief secondment to Area 51 and she didn't seem upset that Mitchell had taken over the reins of leader of the team. For some reason she was very laid back about it – something I would have investigated if I'd had the time. As it was, I left that little mystery for now. Anyway, the only thing Carter wanted to do was speculate as to why the iris hadn't closed. She seemed almost miffed that I had no explanation for it – miffed in a suitably respectful way, of course. Her frustration at my lack of answers was mitigated somewhat by my description of what I had done to prevent the gate from recording my exit from Orilla. I could see many, many experiments with me as the guineapig at the center of them, looming on the horizon.

Teal'c was the familiar strong presence I had come to know, but in contrast to Carter, there was an air of slight discontent about him. It wasn't until he gave me some idea of what was happening with the Free Jaffa that I understood it. He couldn't hide his disappointment from me. It hurt to see how disillusioned he was. Something had been lost in him – that feeling that there were some things worth fighting for without question.

Now, days after my arrival, Doctor Harris had me propped up, with soft pillows supporting me without putting too much pressure on the still throbbing cuts on my back. Garmr had certainly done a good job pushing me through the gate.

I was alone for once, my mind cycling through possible solutions to my problems, various scenarios being conjured up and rejected with the speed of a DVD on fast forward.

I had come to the reluctant conclusion that no easy solution was to be found, when loud voices intruded into my thoughts.

"It can't come in here!"

That was the doctor. I recognised her emphatic tone.

"Well you try telling him that!"

Vala came careering through the door, dragged by several hundred pounds of grey furred werga. I had forgotten just how large he was, but was forcibly reminded when the bed shook with the impact of his two massive front paws. It slid back at least three feet, only coming to a stop when it thumped against the wall.

"O'Neill!" Teal'c actually sounded panicked as he thundered into the room in obvious pursuit. "Are you injured?"

It was hard to answer when teeth were occupying most of my view. I think Teal'c had the courage to actually try and drag Garmr off me, because he turned his head slightly, and a low snarl sent bad breath across my face, making me cough.

After a few attempts I managed to answer. "I'm fine. Leave him." It wasn't so much the coughing that delayed my words, as the laughter that I felt erupting from deep within me. I pushed hard, moving Garmr's head while giving him a few hard thumps at the same time.

Stupid creature.

"I'm sorry. He seemed to want to go for a walk. He lied"

The laughter finally forced its way out. Vala's indignant expression was too much for me. I buried my face in Garmr's fur and laughed until I cried.

It seemed Garmr was just as happy to see me as I was to see him. He shook me off and made the short jump up onto the bed, pushing me slightly askew against the wall, and plopped down across my legs with his head resting on my chest. I gasped as my back was crushed into the pillows, but waved off the doctor's protests. Not having anywhere else to put them, I looped my arms around the werga, ignoring the wet sweep of tongue that left a wide slop of moisture down my left forearm.

I couldn't move, wedged as I was between the wall, the pillows, and Garmr. It was clear I was stuck with the annoying animal for the time being.

It could have been the lack of oxygen in my trapped and flattened lungs, but I found myself falling asleep. Tightening my grip on the wiry fur, I let my head fall back on the pillows.

The Asgard problem could wait. After all the uncertainties of the last months I finally felt safe.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

TBC


	5. Sticky Stuff

Sorry for the delay - real life has been a bitch lately! 

Sticky Stuff

I was sipping cool, fresh water when it happened.

The water spilt.

oxoxoxoxox

Heat rushed over me, making sweat break out all over my lightly clad body and searing my skin. The reek of singed hair was strong enough to cut my gasp short and make me cough.

I would have doubled over if I wasn't already on the floor instead of in my infirmary bed at the Alpha site.

"Interesting. Their bodies must be far more fragile than our own. Make a note of it, C'tl."

The dispassionate voice caught my attention enough for my brain to start dealing with the discomfort and push it to one side. There were far more important things to worry about than being a little overheated.

Like where the hell I was and why?

There are some things I will never get used to. Near the top of that list is being summarily beamed on board alien spaceships. Of course, normally it's the Asgard doing the beaming, and I would land, a little startled but basically okay, on my feet in the cool atmosphere of one of their vessels. But this was different. Asgard transporter beams didn't leave me feeling like an egg just dropped into a frypan.

My supposition that this had nothing to do with the little grey aliens was confirmed when I turned my head enough to peer through the dim light at the speaker. I blinked back sweat, certain it was causing me to see what I was sure I couldn't.

The figure was backlit by the winking lights of instrument panels, but I saw enough to identify it as Ghi'tain. One of its spindly arms was extended toward me, while the other three were draped across its body, holding together the edges of its black wings.

I blinked again.

And the figure came into focus.

"Secure him."

"Bob?"

There was no way I could interpret what was happening as anything but hostile. Friends do not 'secure' friends. My attempt to stand and in some way defend myself was thwarted before I'd done anything other than flex my knees as more dark figures dropped from above and surrounded me at Bob's command, lifting me effortlessly, their long claws digging into my arms.

The Ghi'tain ambassador strode forward, his usual gait somehow made more sinister by the shadows that played across him. He didn't stop until he was almost touching me, his face level with my chest.

"Down!"

Pressure from the clutching arms made my knees bend and I was pressed downward until awkwardly sagging, my face now level with his. All I could see were long, sharp incisors and a small opening filled with a thin undulating tongue. My head jerked back as I involuntarily tried to escape the sickly odour wafting toward me, but I was held in place, unable to do more than move a fraction of an inch.

"That's better. I was so tired of you looking down at me, O'Neill. Now you are on my level." His voice was nothing like the friendly one he had used when we had eaten together and shared our experiences of living on the Asgard homeworld. Now it was filled with sibilance and malice.

"What's going on?" At least I was able to get the one sentence out before I began to cough, my still rough throat protesting its removal from a comforting infirmary bed.

Instead of answering, Bob came even closer, his tongue flashing out to lick down my left cheek, leaving a streak of burning moisture. My skin felt like it had been stroked with acid, the scar Ba'al had left me with was throbbing, a line of sharp pain that stood out from the rest. I moaned, hoping the feeling would lessen, but instead it got worse and I moaned again, louder this time.

"Another interesting reaction." Bob drew back, half turning to a fellow Ghi'tain near his shoulder. "Be sure you are meticulous with your observations, C'tl. Even the tiniest detail could be of importance." He waved one arm. "Enclose him now."

I was dragged backwards, still sagging and unable to get my feet under me until, toward the middle of the compartment, we stopped.

I couldn't understand it. I expected to be thrown into a cell, chained to a wall, tied to a chair. Not to be held in the middle of nowhere.

"Why are you doing this?" Perhaps if I could get Bob to talk, I would have something to work with, something to help get myself out of whatever situation I'd managed to get myself into this time, but it didn't work. He stayed silent, his eyes fixed on me.

Then I found out exactly how the Ghi'tain secured their prisoners.

My captors bent, spitting and licking, twirling saliva around me. As my arms were pulled outward and up, sticky, dripping web snagged them and pinned them pointing to the ceiling. My feet were forced apart and stuck to the floor, while my legs stayed unnaturally bent. Already I could feel the strain on my wrists and shoulders. But they didn't stop there. They covered me with thick strands, crisscrossing my chest, circling my legs and stomach, and wrapping my face until only one eye was able to open, and nothing more.

I had been silenced, gagged so that the moans I uttered as the acid from the web ate into the exposed skin on my hands and face went unheard.

It was there that they left me, in the shadows, hanging like a morsel in a spider's lair. They left me with nothing to do but try to ignore the burning as it etched itself into my eyelid and lips.

It took a lot of self-control, but I don't think it was too long before my brain snapped back into focus and I began to test the bonds holding me. I jerked down as hard as I could on my arms, hoping to snap them loose. When that didn't work I wiggled my hips, trying to loosen the strands across my torso.

All I managed to do was expose enough skin between the infirmary top and pants to allow a part of the web to drop on to my stomach and left hip.

I would have bitten my lip right through if I had been able to open my mouth.

After that I just hung there, my wrists and knees aching.

oxoxoxoxox

Sometime during what I took to be the Ghi'tain night, my subconscious must have decided a little diversion from the pain was needed. Perhaps it would have been better if it hadn't.

It threw up memories of another time I had been fixed to a web, but then it had been a metal one, and the acid that had eaten me had no problem passing through the barrier of clothes. So I began to burn not just on my face and hands, but on my chest where the pain burrowed down into my bones, and I felt the hard metal grating at my back, and I found it harder and harder to separate the events.

By the time Bob reappeared I was a wreck hidden in a solid coating of agony.

"The trip back to my own planet will take several more hours." Once again he stood far too close, his tongue flicking out, but not touching me this time. "Although the Asgard interference complicated my plans, this has perhaps worked out for the better. This far from our galaxy the suspicion for your disappearance falls naturally on Asgard shoulders. By the time the threads of deception have been unravelled, if indeed they ever are, the trail will be long cold and you will be lost to them."

All I managed was a grunt.

Reaching a long clawed hand up to my face, he ripped at the strands crossing my mouth and they fell to hang loosely down my jaw. I just managed to stop myself licking my lips, knowing that where strips of skin had been pulled away there could be pieces of web. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth was enough to warn me to keep my sensitive tongue away from the sticky residue.

"Thanks, Bobby." The lilt of the Ghi'tain words diminished the sarcasm a little, but it gave me some satisfaction that my use of their own language meant there was no mistaking my disdain.

Instead of the expected annoyance, he merely gave what I took to be a small smile. Or it could have been a snarl, or even a grimace – it was hard to tell given my restricted vision. There was also the issue of having completely misjudged this creature before. He had taken me in once and nothing could now be taken at face value.

He turned to his assistant, C'tl - an Igor-in-training if I had ever seen one. "Water him. Then we shall begin."

Now that didn't sound good. From my left side a tube was stuck into the corner of my mouth and tepid water flowed in short bursts down my dry throat. I had no choice but to swallow, but I couldn't have stopped myself even if I had tried – my need for water was far greater than my ability to resist. It seemed only a minute of so before the tube was removed, my tongue desperately following it to catch the last precious drops of moisture.

I took the chance to speak.

"Couldn't wait for me to visit? Had a pie in the oven and didn't want it to overcook?"

I waited expectantly for Bob to now tell me all his plans in great detail, and explain what the heck was going on, but real life isn't like the movies. He ignored me as he seated himself in a nearby chair, folding into it with his wings almost covering him completely.

Maybe the pain was clouding my vision, but he looked like a nasty black cockroach.

"Thor won't be happy."

Okay – I was desperate. The approaching minions with their odd pointy instruments and large sucky tube thingies did not bode well for my continued health – what little I was hanging onto.

"He's so going to kick your butt."

Not my normal sparkling wit.

"My people will ..." A flick of a black rod and my chest opened up in a rush of cloth, skin, and muscle. I stopped talking and gasped, too taken by surprise to scream, only to find a moment later, when the agony became too much, that I couldn't. Freezing coldness numbed the incision and spread up my body, neck and face, leaving me barely able to keep my eyes open to see what they were doing to me. But even able to see it, I didn't understand. The thick tube now sticking out of my chest led to what looked like a plain box, with no decoration of any sort – just a small, insignificant reddish, purple container.

Bob's evil assistant, Igor busied around, pushing things into me, attaching smaller fleshy tubes into spots on my stomach, chest and even into my temples, while his own minions danced around, licking them into place with a few strands of burning web. The numbness had only lasted a few seconds, much to my regret and even though my infirmary scrubs appeared to block most of the acid like substance from burning me and spared most of my skin, the fabric was no barrier to the invasion my body was suffering from the tubes.

It wasn't until some time had passed that the frenzy of activity died down. Igor and his minor minions stepped back and Bob deigned to inspect their handy work. He stood and walked around me, checked from every angle. I could have told him it wouldn't be accepted in the Museum of Modern Art.

"Begin."

Just as I was thinking how Bob was a cockroach of very few words, he made a liar out of me yet again.

"The Asgard were right to be suspicious of my motives in inviting you to my planet, O'Neill. They wanted to keep you to themselves."

Okaaay. Creepy and uninformative at the same time.

There was a tug on the large tube and it moved, as if something was running down it and into the box. The minions went berserk, chattering and dashing from place to place, their claws tapping frantically on the metal pads they each held.

"We need it – far more than they do."

What? I wanted to ask what they needed, but nothing seemed to be working.

"We aren't as ignorant as they think. Our technology rivals theirs in some respects – as you saw when I prevented your base's primitive defence from activating."

So much for my super powers. My brain went into overdrive, sifting through the tiny scraps of information Bob was giving out. It seemed I had played right into the Ghi'tain's hands, making myself an easy target for capture by removing myself from Orilla. And setting the Asgard up to take the fall.

Had it all been a plot designed to make me suspicious of the Asgard, or were there two conspiracies going all the time I had been on Orilla, with me an ignorant pawn at their center?

The thought didn't do anything positive for my ego.

Bob swivelled his head, to stare intently at the strange box, and I swear I saw a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"How is it progressing?" It was clear he wasn't asking me, which was a good thing as I had no idea what it was or how it was going.

And my answer would not have been fit for polite company.

Igor made a gesture with his uppermost pair of arms, rubbing their ends together and setting the claws clicking. "Very well. This harvest will be almost completed when we arrive and according to our scans the subject should be recovered enough within a few cycles to be utilised again." He repeated the gesture and an image of a mad scientist rubbing his hands together in glee flashed through my mind. "It is an excellent subject. It should last far longer than the others."

I just hung there, like a very interested bystander watching a train wreck – except I was the train.

"Show me the results." Bob's tone was that of a commander accustomed to instant obedience and I wondered again at how little I had seen and understood during our supposed friendship. He accepted the datapad given him and made a hissing noise, like a kettle reaching the boil. "Excellent. Continue."

Without another word to me he turned and left, leaving me to the mercy of his scientists.

oxoxoxoxox

I have no idea how long I hung there – hours – days. The tube in my chest throbbed, but I was glad of the pain. At least it proved I was still alive and, if not kicking, at least hanging in there.

Which would have been amusing if it hadn't been so sad.

I was hanging around.

Oh boy! The urge to groan at my own wit was strong, but I didn't give in to it – not wanting Igor and the gang to get all excited. Let's face it – he'd probably do that whole hand rubbing thing again and shout 'It's alive! Alive!' and I wasn't sure I could cope with the whole mad scientist thing right now.

So I dangled like a fly caught in a web and waiting to be eaten.

The thought sobered me quickly.

My brain began to lead me down paths I had been trying to avoid taking as images of being found, a dried up husk of a man still barely clinging to life in some Ghi'tain laboratory raced through me. I shuddered – a shudder that was immediately repeated even more strongly. One that had nothing to do with the procedure my body was undergoing or the things I had been picturing, and everything to do with the blow that hit the Ghi'tain vessel, shaking it violently.

Events after that moved with a speed that was beyond my ability to comprehend. There was a blinding flash, a surge of red-hot heat, and I was tossed into darkness.

Strangely enough I knew I wasn't unconscious. My one good eye hunted for something – anything – any spot of light or variation in the solid black. Anything to dispel the awful sinking feeling that whatever the flash was, it had blinded me.

The relief I felt when I spotted a tiny, tiny blinking sparkle of orange way over on the extreme right of my rather limited view was almost as strong as I had felt when I woke up ungoa'ulded in Hathor's base. My heart beat at a hundred miles an hour, adrenaline coursing through my veins – and gradually slowed when it became clear that the only change in my circumstances was that all the lights had gone out.

Maybe the fuses had blown?

A few minutes of futile tugging on the strands I hung from told me what I needed, but didn't want, to know. I was still stuck fast.

Opening my mouth, I gave it my all – shouting out a guttural, dry, cry – not for help, but just to let someone know I was still there, still alive, twitching a little in my snug cocoon. My cries echoed strangely as if swallowed up by vast distances.

Well this sucked!

oxoxoxoxox

Time passed in its painfully slow way.

I was beginning to think my end would come not in battle fighting at my friends' sides, but in silent loneliness, hanging forgotten in some lost corner of space. I was finding it hard to stay awake and had started sinking into a limbo-like state.

I admit that I had almost given up when I was ripped from the darkness into a white so white that it seared my retinas and set my whole body shaking.

"O'Neill."

My teeth chattered against each other as every muscle vibrated. Legs and arms hitting hard surfaces, head thumping down on whatever I was now lying on – even my fingers and toes beat a staccato rhythm.

"O'Neill!"

"Jack!"

The shouting finally registered while my system calmed, leaving me able to open eyes that had been clenched shut so hard they now were tear covered.

Even through the blur I recognised Thor. My saviour – or not...

My mind was too overwhelmed to cope and I gave up.

oxoxoxoxox

"Finally. You really had us worried this time. You know, I'm beginning to think you do this on purpose – this whole almost dying thing – just to get our sympathy and stop us from getting too complacent. Well, this time it isn't going to work. You're okay, and I'm going back to the Alpha site to try and get some work done."

And with that, before I even had a chance to say anything, the blur that spoke with Daniel's voice got up and left.

I blinked, my vision cleared and I realised I was feeling remarkably healthy and comfortable considering what I had been through.

There were soft covers on top of me, and even softer ones under me, and I was staring up at a grey metal ceiling. Turning my head a little, I took note that the nearest wall was grey metal as well.

Everything was grey, even the short alien who stood next to the bed.

"I am pleased to see you have recovered." Thor twisted his head to one side and opened his eyes even wider than they already were. "As, I believe, is Doctor Jackson."

There was a shuffle and Daniel reappeared, from what I guessed was only a couple of feet away, just out of sight through the nearby doorway.

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to make a point." He poked his index finger at me, stabbing the air. "You really have to stop doing this!"

Deciding it was time to put forward my point of view, I nodded. "Okay. I agree. Completely. I'll tell the aliens and all those Earth people who have me on their hit list to stop trying to maim or kill me. Then I'll put a notice in the inter-galaxy newspaper to catch any I missed. That should do it. Not a problem."

I would have carried on, but making a point needs grand gestures and as I raised my hands the sight of unblemished skin caught my attention. No burns. Cool!

Abandoning my argument, I turned my attention to Thor.

"Thanks, buddy – for the healing, and the rescue I assume. Now would someone care to tell me _what the hell is going on?!_" My shout rang against the grey metal of the Asgard ship and bounced back to hurt even my own ears.

"I'll field this one, okay Thor?" Daniel didn't wait for the alien's answer, pulling up a human type chair and plonking himself down at my side. "You disappeared in what we took to be an Asgard beam, so at first we didn't worry too much." He must have seen the look I threw at him, because he shifted a little in his seat and looked down. "I know, but it isn't so easy to ignore years of trust. We thought that maybe you had been transported by Thor so he could explain what had been going on."

"What had been going on, Doctor Jackson?" Thor blinked innocently up at Daniel, who quickly avoided the question by turning his attention back to me.

"Then Thor contacted us."

"I returned to Orilla to discover you were no longer in residence."

"But ... how did you find out I wasn't there?"

"My staff told me of your observance of the Jedi religion, O'Neill. Naturally I was suspicious as I knew you were not one of those small groups of people that take the worship of fantastical characters to the extreme, living their life around them. You are not even a fan of the Star Wars saga. So I assumed you had a good reason to create this subterfuge and visited your home to find out what it was. You were not there."

Waving my hand in the air I interrupted his explanation. "Wait, wait – how did you know about Star Wars?"

He raised one eye ridge in a gesture that was eerily familiar. "Teal'c was kind enough to introduce me to the great epic adventure that is Star Wars. It is a fine piece of cinematic creativity. I share his opinion of it. Perhaps we can watch it together some time and I can explain the finer details you must have missed."

I groaned – loudly.

"Anyway ..." I swear Daniel was trying not to laugh, but he ignored my glare and hurried on. "Thor contacted Earth and asked to speak with Sam or I and was directed to the Alpha site. Once we compared notes we realised it wasn't the Asgard that had beamed you out of the infirmary. The commander collected me and we rode to the rescue – as usual." Then as an after thought, he added, "Sam, Teal'c and the others wanted to help too, but we thought it would look less obvious if only one of us came. The Asgard High Council and our own government don't know anything about this. We decided to wait until we knew exactly what was going on before we raised the alarm."

"Ah, I don't want you to take this the wrong way ..." I hesitated.

"What?"

"Why did you come with Thor? Why not Carter or Teal'c?"

My question didn't seem to cause him any problem. He grinned, looking very satisfied with himself. "We drew straws."

I rolled my eyes at him, making it clear what I thought of their decision making process, but didn't comment, instead asking another question.

"How did you find me?"

Thor replied, "The Ghi'tain transporter left a distinctive signature. Once I established who had taken you it was a simple matter to track their ship."

I thought for a moment, trying to remember exactly what had happened in those last few hours. Whatever it was, it didn't seem like the simple rescue Daniel and Thor were describing.

"Unfortunately the Ghi'tain must have detected our scans of their vessel. They attempted to fire on us, but their attack was repelled, causing a massive energy backlash. Their defences were unable to compensate."

"The Ghi'tain ship blew up, Jack. One moment it was there, the next –" Daniel raised his arms and flung them outward, "- boom! We thought you were dead."

"Indeed we did, O'Neill, and I admit that it was a very unpleasant sensation. Doctor Jackson was most upset."

Daniel was staring at his hands as he rubbed the knuckles of one hand fiercely with the fingers of the other.

"Upset, huh?"

He looked up at my quiet words and gave a quick smile. "Yeah, just a bit. You borrowed some books from me and it might have been hard to get them back if you were dead. And there would be that whole custody of Garmr issue – no way was I going to be saddled with that hell hound!"

"The ship blew up?" It had taken me that long to realise what they were actually saying.

"Uh huh." Daniel nodded.

"I saw this flash and all the power went off. It was damned lucky I was in a sealed compartment."

"That's just it, Jack – you weren't."

Shaking my head, I protested, "I must have been. How else could I have survived?"

"What did they want with you, O'Neill? What was their purpose in taking you?"

I was about to ask again, wondering why Thor hadn't answered my question, when I saw the look on his face. Over the years I had come to know him well enough to realise he was extremely agitated, so gave him as much information as I knew.

"They wanted something from me, but they never really explained what. It was as if they assumed I knew. Whatever it was, they thought they could extract it somehow – maybe blood or something." I was puzzled, because it hadn't seemed like blood they had been draining, although I couldn't imagine what else it could have been. "They stuck some serious tubes in me and had this container – a bit weird sciencey, a little Twilight Zone."

"That would explain the equipment we found still attached to you." Daniel gave an obvious shudder, an expression of disgust briefly showing. "But there wasn't any container – just tubes leading nowhere."

Thor nodded. "The rest of the equipment the Ghi'tain were using must have been torn away by the force of the explosion."

I took the opportunity to sit up, resting my back against the end of the bed, slightly uncomfortable, but feeling better for being upright. Giving myself a quick once over, I could see no sign of the incisions from the procedure, nor any sign of injuries from the sort of explosion that could take out a large spaceship. It seemed I owed my life to Asgard medical technology once again.

Both Thor and Daniel were watching me, with what I felt was rather too much interest – and they both smiled as I finally settled myself, as if worried about my moving around.

But I wasn't injured.

Now.

"So, what exactly happened to me when the ship blew up? And how did you work out I wasn't dead? It certainly took you long enough. I felt like I was hanging around in the dark for hours." But I knew it couldn't have been. No way could I have survived long in a ship with no life support. I waited for the explanation.

"We detected your life sign amongst the debris several hours after the explosion. The debris field was extensive and there were residual emissions from the ship's engines and other machinery on board that obscured your readings."

"We were looking for a body, Jack, not a live person." Daniel put his hand on my arm and squeezed it slightly. "Then there you were, just floating there, in this little patch of atmosphere all your own."

What? I know my mouth was open, but it wasn't to say anything, just to catch my breath at the image Daniel's words had invoked.

"It is beyond our understanding how this could be, O'Neill. You appear to have survived the catastrophic explosion that destroyed the Ghi'tain vessel. Somehow an air bubble was created that was enough to sustain your life while waiting for rescue. When we discovered you, and beamed you on board our ship, it disappeared, leaving no trace."

"That couldn't be right. I remember being in some sort of big space, like a large compartment. How big was this bubble thing?"

"Not large enough to sustain life for the length of time you were outside the ship."

This was wrong on so many levels. No way could there be a logical explanation for my being alive.

"I should be dead."

"Thank god you aren't."

Maybe Daniel had inadvertently given us the answer.

Thank God.

But I was too much of a pragmatist to accept that.

I had far more questions than answers.

I started with a simple one.

"Where are we heading?"

Daniel stood and backed away, grinning. "Back to the Alpha site. Apparently you left the infirmary before you were discharged."

Oh crap!

TBC


	6. Decisive Action

Author Note: Apologies for the long wait between parts, but the next one is already plotted so it shouldn't be long - promise.  
Flatkatsi

Decisive Action

Doctor Harris seemed a little put out. She gave me a slightly disapproving glare, leaving me with the distinct impression that if I wasn't her superior officer she would be giving me a severe talking to.

"Everything seems to be fine, General." She looped her stethoscope around her neck, her tone just short of annoyed. "Even the previously infected cuts and the congestion from the gas are completely cleared."

I smiled contentedly. "Nothing like Asgard healing. Bless their little cotton socks."

A confused voice came from near my elbow. "I do not wear socks, O'Neill."

Barely restraining a sigh, I didn't manage to avoid rolling my eyes. "Yes, Thor, I know you don't wear socks. It was just an expression."

Sometimes I felt like half a comedy duo, constantly feeding lines to my partner so he could get the laughs.

"So there's no reason why I can't get out of here?" I was already twisting my legs to the edge of the infirmary bed as I asked. Pushing the curtain aside with one hand, I saw Colonel Pierce waiting just inside the door to the room, looking a little anxious.

Harris shook her head. "No, sir, none." I was up and had taken a step from the bed before she could continue. "However I would like to run some more tests …"

"No, sorry, Doc, no can do. I have a debriefing to attend with our ally. Don't I, Supreme Commander?"

The little Asgard trotted after me. "You do, General O'Neill."

I knew I could rely on him. A debriefing was a small price to pay for escaping an infirmary – no matter where the infirmary was. Damned doctors and their needles and penlights!

"You can use my office if you want, General."

I smiled at Pierce. "Thanks, Colonel. Could you have coffee and sandwiches sent in? We may be a while."

A while – to get the answers to all the questions I had would take weeks. Unfortunately Thor seemed to have a similar agenda because he started in on me the second we were alone.

"Why did you leave Orilla so precipitously? And why did you not heed our warnings regarding the Ghi'tain? I am extremely confused as to why you would do these things, placing yourself so plainly in danger."

Colonel Pierce's desk was a rather flimsy affair. It creaked ominously as I rested my hip against it, my arms crossed and countered with questions of my own. "Why did you hold me prisoner on Orilla? And what warnings?"

I stared down at him. He stared up at me. I blinked first, damn it. Having lost the contest, I paid the price by giving Thor an answer. "No one warned me about the Ghi'tain, so when the Council refused to let me off Orilla and even blocked my attempts at contacting Earth, I took matters into my own hands."

"But …" Thor very uncharacteristically hesitated. I waited, but instead of giving me answers he asked yet another question. "Did Kleminstad not speak with you?"

"Kleminstad? Who? Never heard of him."

The conversation came to a halt when there was a knock on the door, followed swiftly by the appearance of an airman with a tray of sandwiches and a pot of coffee. I looked at the food and sighed at the realisation I hadn't even considered Thor when I ordered it.

"Thank you, I would like a coffee."

He never failed to surprise me. After placing the tray on the desk, the airman poured a cup and handed it to the Supreme Commander, waiting, I noted with appreciation, until the Asgard had the handle firmly clasped in his spindly fingers before releasing it. I shook my head at his offer to pour me one as well.

"Thanks, that'll be all." My attention was on Thor rather than the man leaving the room and I barely heard the soft click of the door as it shut behind him. Thor was sipping at the coffee, his face as expressionless as I had ever seen it. If his actions were designed to throw me off-kilter, he had succeeded admirably.

"Who's Kleminstad?" I asked the question as I picked up a plain cheese sandwich, pulling it apart to inspect the filling before slapping the slice of bread back on top and taking a bite.

"Our expert on the Ghi'tain. He was to brief you on the race and explain our concerns. The fact he did not do so worries me greatly. I must consult with my colleagues." And he vanished, just like that, coffee cup and all.

I threw the sandwich across the room.

It hit the wall, broke into several pieces, and slumped to the floor.

"Carter!" Flinging the door open, I bellowed down the corridor, almost making the guard standing outside pee his pants, judging by the look of shock on his face and the fact he jumped straight up at least a foot. I glared at him, wondering about the selection process he'd gone through. Hadn't it included the ability to stay cool under fire? "Carter!" Where the hell was the woman?

There was the sound of pounding feet and Colonel Carter came tearing down the corridor, followed closely by Daniel, Mitchell, Harris, and Pierce.

"Sir, what's wrong?" Colonel Pierce was looking around frantically as if expecting to see aliens at every doorway.

"Plenty." I took a couple of steps until I was as close to Carter as I could get in the confines of a narrow corridor holding a large group of people. She tried to take a step back, but bumped into Colonel Mitchell and stopped, her eyes fixed on mine.

"Carter."

"Sir?"

"Invent something to stop them doing that. Now. Immediately."

For some reason she retreated another small step, almost knocking Mitchell down in the process. "Ah, who doing what, General?"

"Them!" Wasn't it obvious? "Going …" I waved my hands in an upward motion. "Poof!"

"Poof?"

From the corner of my eye I could see Doctor Harris moving closer, pushing between Daniel and Pierce. I kept her in my sights as I answered. "Yes. What don't you get? Invent something to stop them just – going – poof. Some sort of radiowave blocking device to stop whatever it is they do from being done."

There was silence. I assumed Carter was already considering a solution and the others were staying quiet so she could think.

"Perhaps you should come back to the infirmary, General." Harris obviously didn't understand the need for silence.

"Wait!" Now Daniel was at it. Before I could shush him, he pushed through the crowd and for some strange reason looked into the empty room behind me. "Thor's gone." He smiled. I really couldn't see what there was to smile about, but Carter seemed to see the joke as well because her deep frown changed to a corresponding smile. It broadened even more when Daniel waved his hands in the air like a demented windmill and exclaimed, "Poof!" in a loud voice.

They had gone totally mad. I was surrounded by lunatics.

"I'll get right on it, sir." Carter's smile hadn't diminished so I knew her concentration hadn't been broken by the strange antics of her teammate.

I nodded. "Good." That out of the way, there were a few other things that needed dealing with. "Where's Garmr?" I shook the doctor's hand from my arm. The woman was tugging at me as if trying to get me to move down the corridor – why I had no idea.

"Vala took him for a walk," Colonel Mitchell answered. My worry at the reply must have been obvious because he quickly continued, "Teal'c went with them."

Thank goodness for that. "Okay. Get them back here. I'm going home."

There was another moment of silence, this time broken by Colonel Pierce. "Home, sir?"

"Yes." I started to walk, the others trailing behind. "Home. Earth. Now."

"But what about Thor? What did he say?"

I spun, glaring fiercely at Daniel. "He didn't. He went …" I waved upward again. "And I'm not hanging around here to wait for him. I'm going home."

"Okaaay."

We had reached the Alpha site gate room by then. There was a loud echoing growl and Garmr came bounding through the door on the far side of the room, a leash trailing behind him with Vala attached to the other end, and Teal'c following behind. I steadied myself, having had lots of practice by now, and waited for the impact.

He ran straight past me and knocked Doctor Harris flying, Vala coming to a staggering halt, a half twist, and a fall – right onto the other woman. Garmr just stood back and watched.

He was smiling – I could tell.

"Garmr dislikes Doctor Harris." Teal'c intoned the obvious. "He seemed to blame her for your absence, O'Neill, as you were in her care when you disappeared."

"That's ridiculous," Harris stated firmly as she stood, nudging Vala aside as she did so. "He wasn't in the infirmary when General O'Neill was taken. I doubt he even realised he was gone."

Ah huh.

Garmr stalked up to stand at my side, his bony flank prodding into my hip. I picked up the now dangling leash, twisting it several times around my hand, and gave the order. "Dial Earth."

"Jack, wait – you have to explain what's going on. What did Thor say to get you so upset?"

The buzz of irritation mixed with a tingling in my head and I snapped out my reply. "That's just it, Daniel, I told you he didn't. He didn't say anything. And I'm sick of being the one stuck in the middle with no answers and not knowing who's going to do what to me next. I'm going, and if the Supreme Commander comes back you can tell him from me to take a ticket and stand in line. I've got the President and the Joint Chiefs to talk to. Now, dial up that gate so I can get out of here before someone else decides to snap me up for an impromptu bit of torture."

"But Garmr …?"

My hand flicked up as I turned to fix Mitchell with another glare. "Can. Am."

Everyone shut up. The wormhole formed and I walked through.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Yes, they had sent the ID code, so no I didn't go splat. Not that I'd been worried. At least not until I was already stepping through the Alpha site gate. I popped out the other side to looks of general confusion.

"Jack?" Hank Landry was up in the control room with Walter beside him, and for a second I felt a pang of homesickness, but quickly shook it off. Taking the stairs two at a time I made it up in record time, barely raising a sweat. Whatever the Ghi'tain had done to me, it hadn't affected my fitness any. Or maybe I had the Asgard to thank for that.

"Hi Hank – can't stop to chat. Can you organise me a hop to DC, ASAP?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, got that thoughtful look on his face that I remembered from our time serving together, and nodded. "Let's take this into my office."

I began to follow him, but turned at a muffled grunt from Walter. He was busy wiping his arm across his face, a smear of moisture gleaming on the dull uniform fabric. At my raised eyebrow, he muttered an explanation, pointing to an innocent looking werga. "He licked me!"

That managed to raise a smile – the first I'd felt like giving for hours. "He likes you, Chief."

The smile faded as I reached the briefing room and crossed it to my – Hank's – office. It was still a very strange feeling to be here and not be in charge – very strange indeed. Not an entirely bad feeling, but I had to admit the urge to sit in my old office chair, put my feet up, and pretend the last few months hadn't happened. Instead, I pulled up one of the spare chairs and sat while Hank moved around the desk and took my old spot.

"I'll arrange that flight for you, then we'll talk, okay?" A few key strokes later, Hank was nodding as he peered at his computer screen. "There's a flight out of Peterson tonight that will get you into Andrews just before midnight – unless you'd rather wait until tomorrow?"

"Nope. Reserve two seats for me on the first flight."

"Two?"

I gestured at Garmr. "I'm not putting him in the hold."

"But … you can't take an alien animal with you to DC."

"Why not? He's an Irish Wolfhound Timber Wolf cross, trained to protect Lieutenant General O'Neill. Take my word for it, Hank, no one will argue." I looked him straight in the eye, knowing the not so subtle reminder that I now outranked him by one star was stopping him saying what he truly thought of my decision. I didn't care – I needed someone with me I could trust, or in Garmr's case, something.

"What if he gets loose?"

"He won't." For some reason I was certain of that at least. I don't think I could have prised the werga from my side with a crowbar even if I wanted to.

Hank clicked the mouse a few times, then sat back in his chair. "Okay, Jack, it's done. Now, you going to explain any of this?"

"Not really. I doubt I could even if I wanted to. Let's just say I need to report in urgently and leave it at that." I glanced at my watch and nodded at the direct line to the President. "But I do need to make a call."

"Sure." He took the hint, standing to leave the office and I reached over for the telephone, pulling it toward me.

I was put though immediately and I could tell by the President's voice that he was surprised to hear from me – very surprised. The last he had heard I was in the Ida Galaxy.

"General O'Neill. Where are you?"

"At the SGC, sir. There has been a few unexpected developments I need to brief you and the Joint Chiefs about urgently, Mr. President. I'm coming into DC tonight. Could we set up a meeting for first thing in the morning, if that's possible?"

"Just a moment." There was a pause then Hayes spoke again. "Seven. We'll make it a breakfast meeting – it'll probably be the only chance I get to eat." There was another pause. "Is there anything I should know before the meeting?"

Like had I managed to have the Asgard declare war on Earth or if there was a fleet of alien spaceships headed for us as we spoke?

I don't think my reply was quite what he expected. "Only that I'm bringing the werga with me, sir."

"To Earth?"

"To the meeting."

I could hear the smile in his voice right down the phone line. "I'll inform security. This should be fun."

The sound of gnawing had me looking down, to find Garmr happily chewing on the corner of Hank's briefcase where it was stored under the desk. There was already a large hole in the leather, through which I could see some red file covers.

I had the feeling the President's idea of fun was about to be seriously challenged.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

TBC


	7. Are We There Yet?

Are We There Yet?

The wind was howling across the airstrip. Hunching my shoulders, I tugged up my jacket collar in an attempt to stop the cold from getting any further into my rather elderly bones than it already had. Garmr pressed closer into me, and although I knew he was doing it for his own comfort, I didn't mind the feeling of his rough, thick, coat warming my leg. I'd grabbed a set of BDUs from the SGC, but now I wished I'd taken something a little warmer to put over the top – like an Arctic weight parka.

I was halfway to the C-17 when a shout roared from out of the shadows.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing!"

It had been too good to last. I'd gotten from the SGC to Peterson and almost to the plane without an eyebrow being raised – probably more to do with the time of night and the weather than my ability at looking inconspicuous.

I had barely made the flight as it was, after working out all the little details like actually eating a sandwich and changing into something suitable to fly in on a military transport. Then there had been the issue of a uniform to wear to the meeting with the President. Fortunately Walter had come up with a spare set of my dress blues from some place he had secreted them away for just such an occasion. I let Garmr lick him again in thanks. Now, here was this guy with a couple of captain's bars on his shoulders trying to stop me from getting the last few steps I needed to go to reach a seat and a place to rest my head, if not to sleep.

"You can't take that thing on board." He was gesturing at Garmr, not that I needed him pointing at the werga to work out what the problem was as he raised his voice to be heard above the shrieking engines. Another two men who I took to be members of his crew were flanking him in an obvious display of support.

It wasn't like I blamed the captain for his attitude. Animals weren't normally allowed on military transports and there was no doubt in my mind the pilot was determined to stop me from boarding.

I took a step nearer and shouted back. "It's okay, Captain, I've got approval…"

He interrupted before I could finish. "I don't care who you've got approval from…"

"…the President."

We both stopped bellowing at each other. In the pause that followed I reached up and folded my collar back down. The men around me stiffened.

"Animals are a danger on board, General." It was said firmly, if loudly, and I privately commended the captain for his bravery in the face of three stars.

"I do understand that, Captain, and I take full responsibility…"

Again I was interrupted. "No, sir, I'm the pilot. I take full responsibility."

I could only nod. "I apologize. You're right. But I can assure you that this is a very well trained animal. There won't be any problem."

There really wasn't much he could say after that, especially as any answer sounded like he was shouting at a superior officer, even if it was just to be heard, so he gave me a very proper salute, which I returned, and I continued into the plane.

To my surprise Garmr entered the large screaming monster as if it was something he did every day, without even hesitating. All eyes were fixed on us as we walked down the narrow aisle between the interior wall and the rows of seats. Thankfully the aircraft was only about three-quarters full and there was a row toward the back with several empty seats, including an aisle one. Pushing Garmr so that he stayed in the aisle, I dropped into it and looked up at him to whisper in his ear.

"Don't make a liar out of me. Pretend to be trained. Stay quiet."

I knew he heard me because he gave a low growl, opened his mouth, dropped drool on the hand holding the totally useless leash and sat.

Then he yawned, mouth open wide, lips back and fangs showing.

There was a chorus of gasps from around me.

"What sort of dog is he, sir?"

"A big one!" The shouted answer came from the big, beefy army sergeant sitting next to the questioner.

Fortunately I was spared having to answer as the engines shrieked even louder and I hastily grabbed for my earplugs. It wasn't the first time I'd flown military – not by a long way. Having come prepared, I opened up my duffle and took a set of headphones out, stuck them on Garmr's ears, and plugged them into my iPod. The playlist was already set so I pressed the center and left him to enjoy Peer Gynt. It somehow seemed appropriate. He flopped fully onto the floor and sprawled, taking up all the aisle.

It was good to be able to sit for a while. Even the loud sound of the engines was somehow soothing and I began to drift off into a light doze, barely aware of the rattling as the large plane took off.

"Excuse me, General?" The words weren't so much whispered as bellowed. "Could you…?"

The problem was obvious as soon as I looked. Garmr was sound asleep, blocking the route to the toilet. I didn't bother apologizing to the young airman trying to pass, just gave the werga a push with my foot to clear his front legs enough for the man to step over them.

He didn't. He just stood there, looking down.

I was going to say 'Go on, he won't bite.' but I couldn't in all conscience do that, so instead I gave Garmr another shove. Lifting his head, he blinked blearily.

"Move." The word was accompanied by my pointing emphatically at the floor closer to my seat. Then I just waited, praying it would work, because otherwise there were going to be a lot of wet patches on the seats further back in the cabin by the end of the flight.

Garmr stood, shook himself, stepped sideways and flopped back down – on my foot. Barely restraining an anguished yelp, I smiled grimly at the airman as he sidled nervously past. Fortunately Garmr waited until he had gone by before he gave a low growl and a shake of his massive head.

The headphones needed readjusting. With a sigh I repositioned them and checked the playlist I had chosen still had a way to go, then, while my foot slowly turned into a solid mass of numbness, I shut my eyes again and finally slept.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Sir!" I sat up, almost hitting the speaker in the nose. One of the men I had seen before I boarded the aircraft was bending over me. "We have a problem."

Oh crap, what now? My internal question was answered by a sudden jolt, causing my backside to leave the seat cushion.

"We've hit some unexpected turbulence and the captain is worried about your dog."

The captain may have been worried, but Garmr certainly wasn't. He was lying on the floor, all four legs in the air, headphones still firmly attached. I took a quick look at the iPod screen and saw that he was now being serenaded by Wagner – not my choice of music to sleep by, but I wasn't arguing. I gave him a nudge and got nothing but a twitch of the left front foot in return.

Great bodyguard he turned out to be.

Another shudder ripped through the plane, making the exposed equipment and wires on the walls swing wildly. The whole craft tipped to the right and I grabbed the armrests. After a breath-taking and very long few seconds it came back to an even keel.

The crewman was clutching the back of my seat, trying to keep his feet. "I'll watch the dog," I told him. "You better see to the other passengers." He gave a grateful nod and turned to leave. I reached out and snagged his sleeve, pulling him in closer so that I didn't have to shout as loudly. "Tell the captain if he needs an extra pair of hands up there I'm available."

His reply was another nod, then he continued toward a group of civilians nearer the front. There was another upward lurch and even I had to gulp down my rising stomach.

I took a look around at the others on board and turned off the iPod. Garmr immediately rolled and stood, giving me a reproachful snarl.

"Come on, it's time you did something useful instead of acting like a very annoying rug." Leaving the now unplugged headphones perched on his head, I stood and started up the cabin, with the werga following.

It took more than bit of tossing around to knock me over, especially after years of flying on alien craft. Apart from the odd snap of claws on floor, Garmr didn't seem to have any problem moving around either.

About three rows up from me there was a family group – mother, teenage daughter, and young son and it was pretty obvious the children were getting more and more frightened as the turbulence increased in intensity. They occupied part of the row, leaving one seat on the same side I was. My drop into it coincided with another rock to the side so my arrival had more in common with a controlled fall than a graceful sit.

"Hey there. Mind if we join you?" The boy on the end of the row was about seven or eight, his light brown hair falling untidily across his forehead and into his eyes – eyes that were fixed firmly on Garmr. I looked across him to his mother. "We were getting lonely back there."

She nodded at my words and I wondered just how much she could hear over the racket the engines were making.

"I'm Jack." I pointed at my chest, just to be sure she understood.

"Jane, Ruby, and Matthew Ness." The woman pointed to herself, her daughter and her son in turn.

There was a tug on my sleeve and I lowered my head until my ear was almost touching the boy's mouth.

"What's his name?"

"Garmr."

"That's a funny name."

"Well, yeah, but he's pretty funny, so it suits him."

We both looked at the werga. Matthew sniggered, his hand up to his mouth. With the headphones still perched on his ears and the cord dangling down over his neck Garmr did look pretty funny.

"He's got funny eyes."

That was definitely right – and at the moment they were staring straight at the kid as if sizing him up for a snack. I quickly changed the subject before the funny doggy got really insulted.

"Where are you folk from?"

"Denver. My husband's coming back from Iraq tomorrow." There was another jolt and the mother's hands grabbed out to hold her children's arms, but she released them just as quickly as she continued speaking. "He's been gone almost a year."

Both the kids smiled at that, their fright momentarily forgotten.

"Dad's a captain, just like the pilot," Matthew stated proudly. "Except he's in the Army. Captain's very important. He tells people what to do."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Not as important as him." She pointed at my collar. "He's a general."

"Ruby! Don't point. It's rude."

"Well, he is." With a look of disgust, Ruby sat back in her seat, her arms crossed.

"Is general higher than captain?"

"Oh course it is, you dumbass."

"Mom, Ruby called me a dumbass!"

I stifled my laugh and put a suitably chiding expression on my face.

"I'm really sorry, General, I don't know what's gotten into them."

They were brother and sister – that was enough, especially when one was a teenager. Plus it took their mind off the rough flight. Speaking of which – the plane had settled down.

"It's okay, and it's Jack."

A sharp pain suddenly flared in my left knee and I jerked around to find Garmr's paw hooked into a rent in my trouser leg. He shook his head, making the headphone cord whip dangerously close to me.

"I think he wants his music back." Matthew's eyes were huge in surprise. "He's a very funny dog."

Before we could get into the funny dog stuff again I grabbed the cord and plugged it back in to the iPod, then pulled the headphones back into position. This time I chose something at random and set it to play. Garmr took up his usual position across the aisle, looking around as if daring anyone to pass him, before closing his eyes. It was a good thing the flight was almost over.

It was only about ten minutes later that we landed, the pilot setting the big C-17 down with barely a bump. After saying my goodbyes to Mrs. Ness and her children I grabbed my luggage from where I'd left it and headed out the door, at the rear of the small group of passengers.

The night in Maryland was a little warmer than in Colorado Springs, if just as dark. Shouldering my duffle, I slung my suit bag over my arm and gave a tug on the leash, before we set off following the main group toward the nearby buildings. I was almost there before a man came hurrying towards me. I was fairly sure it would be the Duty Officer and I was right.

"General O'Neill, I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier. The flight arrived sooner than expected."

"Thanks all right, Major, we had a little help from a rather strong tail wind."

"So I heard, sir. Yours wasn't the first plane to land early tonight, so things are a little off schedule." He gestured toward a waiting car. "We have a billet arranged for you. Can I take your bags?"

I handed them to him, knowing it was easier than arguing and was about to turn to the car when I heard the sound of happy voices behind me. The Ness family were clustered around a tall man in Army uniform, their excitement obvious even in the dim light. As I watched, he reached down and effortlessly picked up young Matthew, hugging him tight against him in one arm, while the other pulled Ruby to him.

My smile was brief, the memory of the joy of returning to a loving family burning bitterly in me.

"Let's go, Major. I hope there's plenty of hot water left. I need a shower."

"The price of flying military, sir," the officer agreed, as we drove away from the happy reunion. "There will be a car waiting to take you to your meeting in the morning."

I thanked him absently, just hoping I could get a bit of sleep. It seemed I was living in a constant state of sleep deprivation lately.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

I would have left my shower to the morning and fallen straight into bed, but I wasn't the only one that needed a wash and Garmr couldn't go visiting the President all soggy. So instead of sleeping, I reluctantly stripped off my borrowed BDUs and pulled an equally reluctant werga under the shower spray. By this time I knew better than to wash myself first. After a quick scrub Garmr gave his usual vigorous shake, coating the whole interior of the tiny bathroom and me in water, and huffed. Wiping my eyes so I could see, I finished him off with a rough towelling and ushered him out of the room so I could get clean.

I should have known better. When I walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later I found a very large, still extremely damp, mound of grey hair and teeth sleeping right in the middle of the bed.

Too tired to argue, I gave in and pulled back the covers to slip into the small space that remained. The smell of wet fur is the same, whether it's alien or not and I just hoped it I wouldn't stink too obviously of it in the morning.

"You did good tonight," I muttered in his ear. "But tomorrow's the big one. Don't mess up."

I went to sleep with the uneasy feeling I shouldn't have tempted fate by saying anything.

TBC


	8. Arrivals and Departures

Arrivals and Departures

"Stop! You can't bring that any farther."

A definite feeling of déjà vu hit me. Knowing better than to ignore the warning, I obediently stopped, yanking on the leash firmly wrapped around my right hand. Much to my surprise my hand wasn't wrenched from my wrist, instead Garmr turned his head, gave a low grunt and sat.

"Is there a problem?"

The secret service agent responded to my question by pointing at the creature leaning against my leg. "You can't bring that in here, sir."

"I have permission. You must have been briefed on my visit?"

By now we were attracting a little more attention than I had anticipated. A confrontation with the secret service in a corridor of the White House wasn't on my agenda for today. I wanted to get in, have my meeting and get out – quick and clean. Didn't look like that was going to happen.

The man nodded. "Yes, General, we have been. However you have permission to bring your dog to this meeting with the President. This is not a dog. I can't allow you to proceed."

Oh for crying out loud! Mentally sending dog thoughts to Garmr, I smiled insincerely. "Of course he's a dog. A quick call will confirm those orders." I tilted my wrist, giving my watch an obvious look. "We don't want to keep the President waiting, now do we?"

Garmr lifted a back leg and scratched at his ear vigorously. I continued to smile.

"That is not a dog, sir. It cannot be taken into the Oval Office."

Seeing it wasn't working, I dropped the smile. "Of course he's a dog. What else could he be?"

"I breed and show Great Danes, General. That is not a dog. It is far bigger than any dog I have ever seen and its eyes are more feline than canine."

Both of us were now looking at the creature taking up most of the space in the wide corridor. He lifted his head, and staring the agent straight in the eyes, yawned widely, his fangs glistening. The agent rested his hand on his gun and, without taking his eyes off Garmr for a millisecond, repeated, "That is not a dog."

I swear Garmr grinned.

"Do you see a dog in this corridor, agent?"

At my terse tone the man stiffened, but he still had Garmr firmly in his sights. "No, I do not, General."

"And yet I was bringing my dog to this meeting. I am here." I pointed. "As is he. My dog."

"I don't know what that is, sir, but it is not a dog."

We were at an impasse, and one that probably would have ended very messily if a door hadn't opened right that moment and Stan Taylor hadn't appeared.

The head of President Hayes' secret service contingent came forward, the expression on his face unreadable, but his eyes darting between us, taking everything in.

"What's going on, Agent Rossetti? The President is waiting for General O'Neill. What's the hold-up?"

"The general does not have permission to take this animal into the Oval Office, sir." Rossetti was still eyeballing Garmr and I had to admire the guy – he was correct after all.

"General O'Neill's dog is cleared to enter." Stan gave me a nod, indicating I should proceed. "After you, sir."

I tugged on the leash and sharply commanded Garmr to 'heel'. He promptly stood and moved beside me. For a brief second I could almost imagine he was a regular dog. Then he shifted, bumping his head against my waist, and reality set in again.

As we stepped through the door I heard a muttered, 'It's not a dog' from behind me.

"You upset Agent Rossetti, General – not something I'd normally recommend." Stan didn't look at me as he spoke, but his mouth twitched into as close to a smile as I'd ever seen him give. "Just out of interest – what exactly is he?" It was obvious he wasn't asking about Agent Rossetti.

"A werga. He's from the Pegasus Galaxy – where Thor comes from."

"How is Thor?"

"He's good." I paused considering my answer again and amended it. "At least I think he's good. He was a bit agitated when I saw him last. I'll say hi for you next time I see him."

"Thank you, sir. I'd appreciate that."

We had passed through the outside office without any other problems, probably because of the presence of Agent Taylor. He held the door open for me and I entered the Oval Office and came to attention.

President Hayes was sitting in the chairs arranged at the side of the large room. He came to his feet as the door opened and the six members of the Joint Chiefs rapidly followed his lead, rising in a sea of green and blue. I stayed rigid as the men moved into the center of the office and the President took up position in front of them.

"General O'Neill."

"Sir," I snapped out in reply. Having no idea what my reception was going to be, I was taking no chances.

"At ease, General. So this is the alien animal you refused to leave offworld."

Funny, but I thought I remembered the President being excited at the prospect of meeting Garmr? He didn't seem quite so excited now. Then the man's face broke into a wide grin and I realized it had been his attempt at a joke – a very weak attempt, but I wasn't going to tell him that for obvious reasons.

I relaxed a little, but not too much – after all I was by far the lowest ranking person in the room – and nodded. "Yes, sir, this is Garmr."

"He's very large."

That being the understatement of the century, I didn't comment. President Hayes came closer. Stan made a small motion as if he was about to move forward, but he caught my eye, gave me a long stare, and stayed where he was.

"Would he mind if I patted him?"

This was the moment of truth. I put my career, my reputation and my life on the line and shook my head. "No, sir, he won't mind."

And Garmr didn't. The President thumped him firmly on the back. The werga's large tail began to wag, moving more vigorously as Hayes patted him again and again. When patting changed to tickling under the chin and between the eyes he actually wiggled and closed his lids as if in ecstasy.

It was embarrassing and extremely unnerving – creepy even. Soon the Joint Chiefs were joining in, clustered about the creature like young boys around a puppy. Garmr just lapped up the attention, even giving a few small and rather restrained licks, and I began to truly relax.

"He's a magnificent creature, Jack." Garmr seemed to positively glow at the praise being showered on him by my Commander and Chief. He stood, sat, wagged his tail, licked and acted in every way like a well behaved dog. The Joint Chiefs appeared equally enamored of him, taking turns to pat and even call him a 'good boy'. I stood back and tried to control my feeling of panic whenever a hand came within striking distance to the 'good boy's' mouth. After several minutes of mutual admiration Hayes finally called a halt.

"Okay, gentlemen, it's time we got down to business." He waved us toward the cluster of chairs at the side of the room. "Let's get started."

I waited until the others were seated, pushing Garmr over to a corner before finding a place between Admiral Lawrence and the new Air Force Chief of Staff, General Moore. It had only been a few weeks since General Jumper had retired and this was the first time I'd met his replacement – at least in an official capacity. Kevin Moore had been a colonel whose path I had crossed several times while stationed in the Middle East. He was a good man.

President Hayes reached for the jug of water in the center of the coffee table, but Admiral Lawrence got to it first and began filling glasses with a muttered 'allow me, sir'. He was pouring the third when he stopped, put down the jug and quickly pulled a tissue from his pocket, just in time to catch a violent sneeze.

"Sorry, sir, but I'm allergic to cats." He sneezed again and blew his nose loudly. "I didn't think it would be a problem because he's a..." Another sneeze stopped him for a moment then he continued, "dog." We all turned and looked at Garmr and the Admiral gave a rueful smile. "Except he isn't, is he." He brushed fruitlessly at the wiry grey hair adorning his uniform jacket and sneezed again. "Sorry."

"That's okay, Bill. Why don't you take your jacket off? That might help. I'm sure no one here will mind." Hayes looked around at the group, but we all nodded and smiled – of course. For a fleeting moment I had the urge to say 'no I object.', but the wave of insanity passed quickly and I kept my mouth shut. Lawrence shed his jacket, and Stan took it and, after giving it a rapid brush down with his hand, put it over the arm of a chair as far from the officer as possible..

"Now, General O'Neill, I'd like an explanation for your precipitous return to Earth."

Play time was obviously over. I launched into a description of everything that had occurred on Orilla, including my supposed friendship with the Ghi'tain ambassador and his kidnapping of me. Making sure I told them how it felt to be cut off from my home planet with no way to get in contact, I also explained that with Thor's absence I was effectively completely on my own in the middle of a situation I'd had little understanding of and still very few answers for. The only concrete fact I had was 'Bob's' mention of the Asgard interest in the Ancient gene.

Before I could go any further General Maynard leaned forward and made the first comment. "So, from what I understand, General O'Neill, the Ancient gene you carry is the main reason for these events?"

I shook my head, unwilling to believe in such a simple explanation. "No sir. The Asgard have known about the gene for years. I don't see why it would make that much of a difference now."

"But the Ghi'tain haven't had contact with you before."

Maynard was right. I was the first human the Ghi'tain had ever seen.

"Perhaps what they were trying to extract had something to do with the Ancient gene?"

I turned to looked at Admiral Lawrence, giving myself time to think before I answered. "Maybe you're right, sir. It's certainly worth considering. The Asgard may be able to shed some light on that, however I didn't get a chance to properly ask Thor before he left."

"What was his reaction to your leaving Orilla, General? Did he seem upset? I'm still not convinced your reasons were valid."

Keeping my face expressionless I answered Hayes as calmly as possible. "Commander Thor didn't appear to be upset, Mr. President, just confused. He asked why I hadn't listened to a warning from someone called Kleminstad. I told him I'd never heard of Kleminstad and that's when he disappeared." I looked around at the assembled men. "It's obvious the Asgard knew I needed to be protected from the Ghi'tain, but why they didn't tell me I have no idea. Thor seemed as surprised as I was when I told him I'd had no such warning." Knowing I had to be as frank as possible, I continued. "After the complete refusal of the Asgard to even consider that the beings I saw on the planet Thor and I crash landed on were related in any way to the Wraith of the Pegasus galaxy, and after their behaviour towards me over the last few weeks, I'm sure you can understand why I wasn't prepared to take any except Commander Thor into my confidence and why I felt I had to leave Orilla the way I did."

"I have to say, General O'Neill", interrupted General Frankton, "that all this trouble seems to surround you personally." I was busy thinking 'so what's different?' when he continued, "and that the threat to Earth is minimal."

Well, gee thanks, General sir. It's nice to know it's a personal problem I'm having with the alien super-race and the creepy insectoid vampire meat-eaters, and therefore you don't need to worry too much.

Instead of telling the good general what I was thinking, I just nodded. "Yes, sir, it seems to be so."

There was a moment of silence as each of the men stared at me like I was a bug pinned to a board. I shifted uncomfortably and leaned forward to take up one of the glasses of water. The cool liquid not only gave my now dry throat some relief, the action helped to calm me as thoughts of being pursued by the Ghi'tain whirled around in my head.

The silence was broken by President Hayes. "Did Thor indicate when he would contact you again?"

"No, sir, he didn't. He just..." I just managed to refrain from waving my hands in the air and muttering 'poof'. "transported back to his ship to contact Orilla."

"Leaving a lot of questions unanswered it seems. Under the circumstances I think it's best if you remain here on Earth for the time being, General." He glanced around at the Joint Chiefs. "Don't you agree, gentlemen?"

"Definitely, sir," General Maynard replied. "What do you think, Kevin?"

General Moore nodded. "I agree, sir. General O'Neill shouldn't go back to Orilla until we know exactly what's going on and why he is so valuable to both the Ghi'tain and Asgard."

The other men nodded and the President clapped his hands together. "Then that's settled."

What exactly was settled? That I was an ambassador without a post, a general without a command?

So I was to stay here on Earth?

What about Garmr – how did he fit in?

My eyes went to the spot I'd last seen him, sitting so obediently at my feet.

He wasn't there.

The President was speaking – something about refreshments – but I was too busy to listen. Where the hell was the damned creature?

Then I heard it. Unfortunately everyone else in the Oval Office heard it as well – a strangled coughing noise as if someone or something was trying to swallow an object and wasn't succeeding. I leaped up and headed toward the sound – behind the large couch the President and General Frankton were sitting on. Everyone else followed, Hayes kneeling on the couch to look over its top.

As I reached the corner of the chair there was an even louder cough, a few metallic sounding crunches and an unmistakable retching. I was greeted with the sight of Garmr spewing up what seemed to be pieces of metal intermingled with brightly colored ribbon.

Oh shit!

The once neat naval uniform jacket was lying mangled and torn under the werga's body, large holes gaping where the badges, awards and decorations should have been.

And yes, oh joy, there they were - all chewed up on the floor in a pile of werga vomit. I wondered if Admiral Lawrence wanted them back.

"Is he okay?"

To my surprise it was the admiral who asked the question. He seemed more worried about Garmr than his jacket. He shouldn't have been. Garmr was now standing, looking quite proud of himself. Before I could stop him General Maynard bent a little to give him a closer look and received what I was sure was a nauseatingly smelly lick for his trouble.

"Get a bowl of water sent in, and have someone clean up this mess please, Stan." I could see Hayes was trying not to smile at the pained expression on Maynard's face. "Would you like to use my bathroom, Francis?"

Maynard nodded and disappeared through an inner door.

I tried desperately not to catch anyone's eye, but it wasn't any use – within a few seconds of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff leaving the room we all started laughing.

"I'm really sorry, Admiral." That was all I could say. It wasn't as if I could offer to dry clean the jacket for him. Dry cleaning wouldn't help one little bit. The jacket was clearly irreparable.

"Don't worry, General. These things happen."

I had to smile at Lawrence's reply. These things sure did happen, but only to me.

"Maybe he's teething?"

My smile turned to a grimace at General Moore's comment. Teething? Wouldn't that imply Garmr was still growing? That didn't bear thinking about.

"This leads me to another point, Jack," the President said, "that it will be impossible for Garmr to remain on Earth. There will be far too many questions about him that we won't be able to answer."

"Couldn't he stay with me, sir? We could stay at my cabin in Minnesota and keep a low profile."

Hayes shook his head. "I'm afraid not. There's a post waiting for you here at the Pentagon. He'll have to go back to Orilla."

The stupid animal was just sitting there, blissfully unaware that his fate was being decided, his head on one side as if he was listening to everything being said. I remembered how excited the Asgard scientists had been when he was brought to Orilla and how close it had come to his being put in some cage to spend his life being studied.

I couldn't allow that to happen.

"I could take him back to the planet Thor and I found him on."

"Commander Thor can, Jack. I don't want you leaving Earth", the President answered firmly.

I could only nod. I spared a brief thought for the post at the Pentagon. Another desk job. And it seemed like it was all settled.

"Permission to organize a flight back to Colorado, sir? I'd like to get Garmr settled at the SGC until Thor returns."

Hayes nodded. "Permission granted. But get back here as soon as you can. We have a lot to discuss."

The generals and admiral all said their farewells and I could see by their expressions that they didn't feel any better about what had been decided than I did. But President Hayes was right – there was no alternative. I had always known I couldn't keep Garmr with me on Earth.

We left the White House together, pausing just long enough for the werga to have the water Stan brought him and to use the Rose Garden as a toilet.

"You did it this time, you stupid idiot." My complaint was only muttered at him half-heartedly. It hadn't been his fault. I never should have taken him off his planet in the first place.

Well, he'd be back home soon enough. And I wouldn't have to look after him. That had to be a good thing – right?

Right.

TBC

Author Note: My apologies - I put 'the end' on this part originally by mistake. Of course the story is continuing.


	9. Unavoidable Delays

Unavoidable Delays

The short ride back to Andrews seemed to pass far more quickly than was physically possible, the large black Air Force limo eating up the miles.

I didn't want it to end.

At least Garmr was enjoying the journey. He had his nose pressed firmly to the tinted window, his eyes darting around as he took everything in, his ears twitching. I was sure that if the window had been down he would have had his head out it, nose caught in the wind, just like a normal dog.

But he wasn't – normal or a dog – and it was better not to think of him as either. He was alien and clearly didn't belong here on Earth.

Realizing my right hand was smoothing his rough pelt, I pulled it back and clenched it with my left, resting them in my lap.

"The gate's just up ahead, sir."

I acknowledged the driver's warning and took the time to straighten my tie and brush a few stray hairs from my sleeves as we pulled to a stop near the security checkpoint. Our car was fourth in line to pass through, directly behind a battered red sedan and as we waited I looked around, noting that a couple more vehicles had already taken their places behind us in the queue. It seemed to be a busy day for visitors to the base.

It wasn't long before we took our turn at the checkpoint and the sergeant on duty was peering into the limo, comparing the occupants against the ID cards he was given. He straightened as he connected what he read on my card with the stars on my shoulders and gave a perfect salute. Leaning into the open window a little, he directed his next words to me rather than my driver. "I'm sorry, sir, but a troop flight has arrived from the Middle East and there is another one incoming within an hour. There are a large number of civilians on the base and for safety reasons you won't be able to proceed past the parking lot."

I nodded. "That's okay, Sergeant." The walk from the area reserved for military personnel vehicles to the main administration building wasn't far and I would have to go there first, before retrieving my gear from the quarters I had been assigned the night before, to confirm my flight details. While we were on our way from the White House to Andrews something was sure to have been arranged, but what I really didn't know. All I could be sure of was that it would be quick and soon. General Moore's last few comments before I left the Oval Office had made it clear the incident of my strange survival after the Ghi'tain ship exploded was going to be more fully explored on my return – something I was so not looking forward to.

We pulled away from the gatehouse and took a sharp left, peeling off from the steady stream of cars heading for the visitors' parking. Garmr sat up, his head cocked a little to one side as his large black nose twitched. He stayed perfectly still, even after the car came to a halt and the driver got out to open the door, his nose the only part of his body moving at all. It was a strange, very un-Garmr like thing for him to be doing. Normally, when he wasn't asleep he was always moving, getting into things he shouldn't, poking his nose around where it wasn't wanted and messing stuff up. On Orilla I had found it very annoying that I couldn't just get on with my work without him nudging papers off the desk, his constant fiddling causing me to stop what I was doing and pay him some attention. Now his stillness was disconcerting. Finally, with a soft whuff of breath that sounded like an exasperated grunt, he deigned to step down from the vehicle and following me closely, walked into the large brick building that housed the main offices for the base.

The buzz of conversation stopped as soon as I entered the crammed office. Heads turned and eyes instinctively went to my shoulders. Giving a very small smile, just enough to show I wasn't a threat, I made my way to the back of the room, a path opening up as bodies shuffled out of the way.

The captain seated behind the file covered desk, stood and spoke before I could even introduce myself. "Good afternoon, General O'Neill. Your flight is organized, sir. You won't be able to leave for another two hours, but you should be back at Peterson before nightfall." He looked pleased with himself as he handed me some papers. "General Malcolm asked me to give you this."

Taking the information from him, I glanced over it, noting that my transportation this time was at least more comfortable than the C-17 I flew in on. It seemed the President was anxious enough to have Garmr off Earth and me back in Washington to arrange a Gulfstream for the flight. Then I read the short note from the base CO. General Malcolm was busy with the returning troops, but hoped to see me before I left. It was nothing more than a courtesy - Malcolm and I barely knew each other.

Garmr pushed into me, giving me the not so subtle hint that he was bored. A bored werga was not something I wanted on a military base, so I tugged on his leash. The first thing I would do was get out of the monkey suit, executive jet be damned, and have a shower. Hopefully the hot water would clear my head, because at the moment it was clogged with worrying thoughts – mainly about the massive complication in my life striding along beside me.

Were there any more like him back on the planet Thor and I crash-landed on? I should have checked with the Asgard – I was sure, given their excitement at the discovery of the werga, that they had looked. Or had they? They had been pretty anxious to avoid discussing anything about the episode, especially the wraith look-alikes. Maybe they hadn't been back there. Had Garmr been alone, the last of his kind?

I shook my head, annoyed at the direction my thoughts were heading in. Of course he hadn't been alone. There were probably whole packs of wergas there. He could have a family – lots of little garmrs pining for their daddy. Perhaps that was why he always seemed pissed at me. Or maybe that was why he had been so happy to leave.

We were nearing the parade field and I realised that we had come much closer than I intended to the area where the reunions of the troops with their families were taking place. I paused to watch. The troops were formed up on the field with their families watching from the bleachers as the short ceremony neared its end. I heard the order to about face and the sound of clapping as the troops gave their relatives a big round of applause, then the formation was dismissed and the happy returnees hurried to greet their loved ones. Cameras flashed, recording the moment as husbands and wives embraced. Parents cried, children were hugged tight, and even my cynical soul was lightened by the scene. It was very different from the few times I'd pulled a full deployment. Back then I just came off the plane, turned in my weapons, and went straight to where Sara was waiting. Now it took a couple of hours to deal with all the formalities before the troops could even see their families. Judging by the joy on the faces of the people I was watching, it must have seemed an interminably long wait.

The sense that something was wrong tickled its way up my neck. In the space of a few seconds I went from sappy to alert, my gaze panning across the crowds, while beside me Garmr began a low growl from deep in his belly. Glancing down at him, I saw that his hackles were up, the hair stiff along his spine. He was staring straight ahead, toward a man on the edge of the sea of people, a man already edging his way further into the mass of bodies.

His jacket shifted.

"Bomb!"

The professionals in the crowd reacted to my shout, pushing the children down, scattering and covering their families with their bodies. I ran forward, my heart in my mouth, seeing the look on the man's face as he realized he'd been spotted, seeing his hand go to the bulge on his stomach.

His eyes met mine and I expected to die.

Then he went down beneath a flash of ferocious werga.

There was blood everywhere and the man wasn't going to get up again – ever.

Through the screams and scrabbling of people retreating I heard the unmistakable sound of flesh ripping as Garmr tore out the suicide bomber's throat.

"Sir, get back!"

I spun, avoiding the hand that grabbed at me as three of Andrew's security forces reached my side. Ignoring them, I took a couple of steps toward Garmr and crouched down, trying to get a closer look at the bomb now almost hidden by the werga's body. In the background I heard orders being shouted as the crowd was pushed back. I knew I didn't need to worry about that – there were plenty of others to take that responsibility. I had more immediate concerns.

Garmr looked up, his muzzle dripping.

"Shit – he's standing…"

"Yes, I know." Without taking my eyes from Garmr's I stood again and moved a step closer.

"Sir," the voice at my elbow continued, "Please step back. If he moves…"

"He won't."

I was almost touching the body now. Garmr's paws were splayed across the bloody torso, his left front one firmly on the pressure pad release for the bomb.

I crouched again and spoke quietly, but firmly. "Don't move, okay? And this time listen. You're standing on a bomb. If you move it will go off and you, me, and everyone nearby will go boom rather dramatically."

Garmr looked at me, his yellow eyes holding mine. It was inconceivable that he had understood anything of what I had just said, but he stood, frozen.

"General, I have to insist you move back to a safe distance." The voice had become adamant, so I took a second to look at the speaker. As I expected, it was a major all decked out in the uniform of a bomb disposal officer, his features concealed behind a protective helmet and visor.

"If I do that he'll move." I pointed at Garmr. "I can't move that fast, can you?" He shook his head, so I turned back to the werga and continued, keeping my voice low and calm. "He won't move while I'm here, so I suggest you take a good look at what we're dealing with and decide how best to defuse it."

"At least put these on, sir." He had clearly decided that arguing with me was just time wasting, and time wasn't something we could afford to waste.

Nodding, I took the padded vest and slipped it over my jacket, but shook my head at the helmet. "He needs to see me."

I wasn't sure if it was true, but I figured that I was putting an awful lot of trust in Garmr and the major deserved to know it. Both our lives were on the line here – relying on the somewhat dubious intelligence of an alien creature I really knew very little about.

An alien creature who stared at me, then bent his head and licked at the blood still pouring from the gaping wound in the neck of the man he had just killed. I found myself licking my lips in reaction, knowing I should find the sight abhorrent, but unable to muster any sympathy for the werga's victim.

There had been children in that crowd.

"From what I can see, Major…?"

"Williams, sir, head of EOD here at Andrews."

"O'Neill. Okay, it's a simple release mechanism. I caught a glimpse of the bomb itself but couldn't see much in the way of detail. Garmr will keep his foot on the release so you can get a closer look."

The major's tone was skeptical, but resigned. "You're putting a lot of trust in your dog, if I may say so, sir."

I was. I always trusted the members of my team with my life and Garmr was no exception.

My knees were beginning to protest, so I crossed them and settled myself more comfortably on the hard packed grass, wishing someone had provided a cushion along with the vest. Major Williams knelt beside me, both hands on the ground to balance himself as he peered at the barely visible bomb.

Garmr took another lick.

"Could you stop that? It's freaking everyone out."

He lifted his head again and gave me a pointed stare, as if to say 'I killed it and now I'm going to eat it.'

"I'll get you a nice juicy steak as soon as we've finished here, so just control yourself."

He curled his lips back, his contempt at the offer obvious.

Williams peered closer, his nose almost touching Garmr's flank. I had to give the man credit – he was pretty cool considering the circumstances. It came with the job, I guess.

I took the chance to look around. Everyone had been pulled back, leaving us isolated in the middle of a very large open area. A remote controlled bomb disposal robot was waiting just a few feet from us.

They could have used it. They could have insisted on pulling me back and set the bomb off and I wondered why they hadn't. The correct procedure was to detonate the bomb with as little risk to life as possible. Obviously someone had made the decision to defuse rather than detonate it. Considering how little time had passed since the situation had begun, there must have been a lot of frantic organisation going on somewhere behind the sandbags.

The major sat back, resting easily on his haunches. He looked at me and nodded. "You're right, sir, it is a simple device. It's just a case of getting access to it." He gestured to the body. "Your dog will have to move for me to defuse it, but if he moves he could set the whole thing off."

I thought for a moment before finally thinking of a solution to the problem. "Can something replace his foot on the trigger? Then he could move off the body."

There was a buzz from the major's radio and, holding his hand up to stop me talking, he listened for a minute and muttered a few words. A frown grew on his face as he acknowledged the message, before telling me what had been said.

"I've been given orders to pull back, sir."

"What?"

"It's been decided that rather than risk both our lives we are to pull back and allow the bomb to go off." He raised his head and looked around at the open field.

"That's ridiculous. Exactly how are we expected to get a safe distance before Garmr moves?" I glared around, knowing there were people watching our every move.

"You're to order him to stay, sir. Apparently the word is that he's very well trained."

I gave a snort of amusement. It seemed our play-acting at the White House had worked. They had no idea that Garmr's training consisted of me telling him what to do and him ignoring me. Anyway… "It's not going to happen. No way am I leaving Garmr to blow up, especially after he saved who knows how many lives."

Williams looked like he didn't like the idea any more than I did, but he repeated, "It's an order, sir."

"Who from, Major?"

"General Malcolm, sir."

"Major General Malcolm?" I raised an eyebrow then tapped the three stars on my left shoulder. "I've got a far better solution." Without saying another word I reached forward and slapped my hand next to Garmr's paw. "Now you can get clear without any worry about the trigger being released."

"Excuse my language, General, but - shit!" Williams' eyes were wide as he stared at my hand.

I have to admit that it had been a spur of the moment decision on my part, but I wasn't sorry I'd done it – not sorry at all.

Giving the werga a gentle nudge with my shoulder, I told him to get off. He lifted his foot, slowly, almost as if he knew what was at stake, and got up, moving away from the body. Stopping just a foot or so from me, he shook himself, sat down again, and gave what I was beginning to think of as his trademark vigorous scratch. I seriously needed to consider getting some alien flea powder if I got out of this in one piece.

Major Williams also stood, and with his back turned to me, was speaking rather animatedly into his radio. The conversation didn't seem to be a pleasant one.

I waited until he finished before commenting. "You're still here, Major?"

He turned and nodded. "Yes, sir, and I intend to stay." This time he knelt beside the dead man, his access to the bomb now unimpeded.

"When was the last time you defused a bomb, Major?" I restrained the urge to move as a sticky feeling crept up my legs. The blood pooling around the body had reached me at last.

"It's been a while, General." He grinned. "Normally I have junior officers for this sort of thing. What about you? When was the last time you were in this sort of danger?"

He didn't get the answer he expected. "A few days ago and have to admit I could do with a little less excitement in my life.

The look he gave me was a little more intense as his eyes moved across the ribbons and badges on my chest. I could see him evaluating my words.

"Have you had any experience with defusing bombs, sir?"

I nodded. "Yes, but it was a few years ago."

He gently lifted the dead man's jacket as he asked, "What sort was it?"

I thought back to the asteroid we had stopped. "Nuclear." He just stared at me, so I continued, "Don't worry, I got it right. It didn't go off."

This time his smile was broad. "Pleased to hear that, sir." Then he pulled some wire cutters from his vest pocket. "This won't be that interesting."

I smiled back. "Can't say I'm not glad to hear that."

In the end the actual defusing of the bomb was rather anti-climatic. Williams carefully prized, unscrewed and snipped, while I avoided holding my breath and kept as still as possible. It was done in a matter of minutes. The major radioed through the news and within seconds we were surrounded by men sorting out the mess. It took longer for me to untangle my legs and get to my feet than it did to secure the scene..

I was fruitlessly brushing down my trouser legs when General Malcolm appeared at my side. He didn't look happy as he handed me a phone. "The President wants to speak to you."

Crap.

I moved several feet away from the activity and spoke into the cell. "O'Neill here, Mr President."

Hayes sounded like he was in another country rather than just a few miles away and I pressed the phone closer to my ear.

"…done it now, General. Can't you even make a simple plane flight without getting yourself on national television?"

"Television, sir?"

"Take a good look around. You're being beamed live across the country."

Sure enough, there on the edge of the field were cameras, pointed straight at me. They must have been at Andrews to do a story on the returning troops. Frowning, I could only think of one thing to say.

"Sorry, sir."

Hayes didn't sound annoyed. "There's nothing to be sorry for. Garmr saved a lot of people today. He's a national hero. You both are." He laughed. "Except this time everyone knows it."

"How are we going to explain him, sir?"

"Don't worry about that. The spin doctors are already working on it." He paused then his voice got softer. "You really didn't have to go to such lengths to keep him on Earth you know, Jack."

I could only repeat myself. "Sorry, sir." My smile grew as a hard body pressed against my leg. My hand stroked the sticky fur. "And thanks."

TBC


	10. Show Time

Show Time

"There, that's an excellent shot. It captures the immediacy of the situation – conveys the sense of danger. And, of course, your best side is in profile."

"Daniel."

"Yes?"

"Shut up now."

"I disagree. That isn't the general's best side."

Finding my attention reluctantly dragged back to the television screen, I watched myself lean forward over the terrorist's body and wondered why Carter didn't agree with Daniel. Not that I really cared of course. Not really. I looked closer. I didn't think I looked too bad – a bit gray around the edges, well, all over actually – but otherwise not bad for a guy my age. The camera zoomed in, focusing on my back as I pushed down on the trigger mechanism.

"Now, that's his best…" Carter stopped speaking and I just had time to see the flush rise in her face before she hastily turned away. "I mean … you were very lucky, sir."

The image of my ass was thankfully replaced by a wide angle shot of the parade ground. I raised my eyebrows and stared at Carter for a long moment. She avoided my gaze, looking anywhere but at me, the redness growing deeper by the moment.

"Has the assassin been identified, O'Neill?"

Teal'c's question brought my attention back to the TV once more. "No, not as yet," I answered as Major Williams calmly defused the bomb. "He didn't have I.D. and his fingerprints aren't on any database. Unless some radical organization claims responsibility we may never know what his motive was." I concealed a yawn behind my hand, but found myself a bit more alert when the image changed to a face I recognized – the army Captain's wife from the flight into Andrews.

"General O'Neill was wonderful. He came and spoke to my children and sat with us when it was a bit rough. My son can't stop talking about him and his dog. I think my husband is a bit jealous, especially when he saw the general on the television."

I groaned, hiding behind my hands until Mrs. Ness was replaced by yet another repeat of Garmr tackling the bomber. Thankfully the camera had been focused on the ceremony at that point and the violent tearing out of the man's throat and subsequent licking of the blood had been concealed. I doubted the general public would have been quite so enamored of the werga if it hadn't been. But then again, maybe it wouldn't have made any difference to their opinion given the circumstances.

"When I think how many people would have been killed if you hadn't spotted him." Daniel shook his head and I could only echo his sentiment.

"It would have been carnage, but," I continued, "it wasn't really me. Garmr was on edge from the moment we stepped out of the car. I was already prepared for something to happen – I just didn't know what." I rapped my knuckles on the hard head currently resting in my lap and got a low growl for my trouble.

"I believe Garmr is the current topic of conversation."

Teal'c was right. I sat up a little straighter in the seductively soft couch and blinked to clear my head. Despite a meal and shower the day was finally catching up with me and I was finding it harder and harder to stay awake. The V.I.P quarters at Andrews were far more luxurious than the standard officers' accommodation, with a queen size bed calling to me from the bedroom. My head began to tip sideways.

Blinking again, I made a conscious effort to concentrate on what the talking head on the TV was saying. It was a female major, hair perfectly groomed and polite professional smile in place. Something about special training and hybrid wolves. General O'Neill … personal protection … classified …

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Dreams of flying an F302 across a vast expanse of ocean were shattered by a voice in my left ear.

"Jack, hey, wakey wakey. It's time to go to bed."

Okay – that didn't sound logical.

I opened my eyes and was greeted by the sight of Daniel staring down at me. A moment of confusion cleared and I realized I was lying on the couch, covered by a blanket I assumed was from the bed.

"What time is it?" As I asked, I was peering at my wrist, but the hands of my watch refused to stay in focus.

"Nine o'clock and although Teal'c volunteered to carry you into the bedroom we decided it would be prudent to wake you instead and let you do the moving all by yourself."

"Yeah, probably a good idea." Sitting up, I raked my fingers through my hair and looked around, letting the blanket slip down to rest on the couch cushions.

I had been asleep for two hours, but it felt like ten minutes. My head was filled with fuzz and my back ached. I was more than ready for bed and a proper sleep. Feeling all my years, I stood, grateful for Daniel's steadying hand.

Carter was clearing empty cups from the coffee table and carrying them into the small kitchen. Garmr was fast asleep on the floor across the doorway to the corridor, making like the well trained guard dog I knew he wasn't. I couldn't see Teal'c anywhere, but the mystery was solved when I made it as far as the bedroom door. He was just finishing pulling down the covers. Boxers and a white T-shirt I recognized as mine were laid out on the chair beside the bed.

"Do you need any further assistance, O'Neill?"

I shook my head, giving my friends an appreciative smile. "I'll take it from here, T. Thanks for your help, guys." Then I had a sudden thought. "Where are you going to sleep?" I doubted there was room available for them on base with the extra personnel working on the terrorism case probably taking up all the guest quarters.

It would be hard to explain how grateful and surprised I'd been when my old team mates swept into the conference room where the debriefing was taking place. Daniel ran interference, waving a Presidential authority, while Carter soothed ruffled military and FBI feathers and during the ensuing commotion Teal'c whisked Garmr and me away.

A large plate of steak and French fries was waiting on the table in the V.I.P quarters he hid me in, with an extra side order of three very large raw steaks for Garmr – just like I'd promised him. Also waiting was Colonel Paul Davis. It seemed President Hayes had my welfare at heart after all. T, Daniel and Carter had been recalled from the Alpha site and flown straight to Andrews, where Davis waited, armed with all the documents needed to get me away from curious eyes. I think it was Garmr that Hayes was worried about really, rather than me. For some reason he liked the creature. Clearly he hadn't had time to really get to know him.

"Colonel Davis has offered us accommodation at his residence. He is currently speaking with General Malcolm, however he will return to collect us soon." Teal'c continued with a nod of his head toward the clothes he clearly intended me to sleep in. "There is no need for you to wait for his arrival. He intends to return in the morning to brief you on developments."

Carter came into the room, wiping her hands on a towel. "There's probably going to be a press conference set up for you tomorrow, sir. Colonel Davis said he didn't think there was any way to avoid it."

I grimaced at the thought, but knew I couldn't change anything.

"You're the hero of the hour," Daniel added. "The public wants their pound of flesh. Good thing you've got plenty to spare – the main reason we decided not to carry you to bed."

"Speaking of which, General…" Carter didn't need to repeat herself; I was already reaching for the boxers. The bed was definitely calling me.

"If I have to face my adoring public in a few hours I better get my beauty sleep." Raising a finger I shook it at Daniel. "No comment from the peanut gallery thank you very much. It's bad enough that you implied I'm fat."

"Did I say that?" Daniel looked toward the others, that guileless expression on his face that had so often got us out of sticky situations, but he got no help this time. Teal'c merely nodded, while Carter muttered something about a jacket and hurried out.

Concealing a grin, I waved a hand at him. "I'd follow Carter's excellent example and get out while the going's good, if I were you."

"I will leave you to your rest, O'Neill." As Teal'c gave a slow nod of his head, his eyes caught and held mine. The unspoken conversation only took a few seconds but left me feeling strangely embarrassed, like he saw far more in me than I did in myself. I muttered something, looking down, the boxers held in front of my chest as if their thin fabric could shield me.

"Jack?" The bedroom door shut softly, but when I looked up I found Daniel was on the wrong side of it. He took a step forward and placed his hand on my left shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "What's wrong?"

Feeling even more embarrassed, I shrugged, his hand lifting with the movement. "Honestly? I don't know." Struggling for the right words, I continued, "It's just … I didn't exactly do much – just got in the bomb disposal guy's way. He's the one that should be up in front of the cameras tomorrow. It wasn't like I planned anything – I was just in the right place at the right time."

"But how many others would have realized what they were looking at and acted so quickly?"

"It was instinct."

"And training."

I nodded. "Yeah, I suppose." I twisted a little and felt his hand fall away.

"Admit it, you're worried about tomorrow." He was staring at me, a slight smile on his lips. "You don't do the hero thing."

I didn't feel like smiling. "The last time I had anything like this happen I felt nothing like a hero."

I remembered standing up on the podium, knowing I was playing right into Kinsey's hands and that there was nothing I could do about it. I had felt far from heroic. There was a dirty taste in my mouth for months after that episode. Yes, Daniel was right; I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow. The memory almost made me gag.

Daniel must have realized what I was talking about, because his smile slipped, then he gave me a prissy punch on the arm in an obviously awkward attempt at jogging me out of my mood. "That was different and you know it. You should be proud of what you did today."

A sudden thought cheered me up. "And Garmr gets to stay."

"That's a plus, how?" Despite his words, Daniel was smiling broadly and I was ready to respond when Teal'c's deep voice came from the next room.

"General O'Neill should rest, Daniel Jackson. He has had a very long day and will need to rise early."

"Whoops." Daniel's smile widened to a grin. "I better get out of here."

"Aww, do you have to?" I raised my voice, making it as whining as possible. "You promised we could have a pillow fight if I was good."

"O'Neill, get to bed!" Teal'c's order almost drowned out the loud giggling from Carter.

"Yes, Dad," I shouted while Daniel disappeared out the door.

A chorus of 'goodnights' were followed by what sounded like a scuffle. Pausing while I unbuttoned my shirt, I listened more closely, grinning as I heard Daniel asking Garmr to move out of the way. My grin lessened a little when a loud snarl came clearly through the thin door and I was about to leave the room to referee, but Carter's polite 'thank you' told me my intervention wasn't necessary. The outer door opened and shut and I was finally alone.

Alone, of course, except for the werga. By the time I had finished in the bathroom he managed to open what I thought was a firmly closed door and jump up to take most of the bed. Heaven knew what I would do if it ever looked like I was going to have a sex life again. The competition for bed space would be brutal.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The next morning was dull with gray clouds covering much of the sky. People far higher up the chain of command than me had decided the press conference would be held in the Pentagon, so Colonels Davis and Carter and I set out on the short journey. Even the thickened windshield didn't couldn't muffle the sound of the vehicle wheels splashing through shallow puddles from the rain I hadn't realized had fallen during the night.

I had thought leaving Garmr at Andrews wouldn't be easy, but his rather doubtful loyalty to me was easily turned to disinterest when Teal'c produced a raw and bleeding side of beef, dumping it on the floor of the VIP quarters with a dull squelch that made even my battle-hardened stomach churn. I pitied the cleaners trying to get that stain out of the carpet. I doubt he even heard the door shutting behind me through the sound of his teeth biting down.

Being werga-less was a strange sensation after having him dogging my heels constantly for so long. At first it was a relief to not have to worry about what he would do, but then I found myself reaching to run my hand over his rough fur or to give him a slap on the back. My hand would grasp at nothing, then fall back, leaving me with the feeling something important was missing. Still – it wouldn't have done to put him in front of the cameras and expose him to far closer scrutiny than had been possible across the expanse of the parade ground. No, better that it just be me that was thrown to the rabid pack of press hounds. And probably a lot safer – for the press hounds.

All too soon the Pentagon loomed into view and despite my best efforts at mentally willing it not to happen, we pulled up at a side entrance only a few seconds later. Then it was into a briefing room to be 'prepped' for my press conference.

General Moore was there as well as the same major who I'd seen on television the night before. She was introduced as Major Fowler and it didn't take long before she 'took me in hand' so to speak. After a quick, but very obvious survey that made me feel uncomfortably like she was sizing me up after I'd asked her out on a date, she gave a seemingly reluctant nod and came a bit closer.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir - would you mind if I combed your hair?"

Why? What was wrong with my hair? It had been fine when I shaved this morning. Or at least I think it had – I hadn't actually checked in the mirror. Resisting the urge to brush my hand over my head, I nodded.

"Sure, knock yourself out, Major."

She gestured to a chair and I sat, while she took out what appeared to be an inordinately large case of some sort.

"While Major Fowler is getting you ready, General, we should go over some of your responses to the questions you may be asked."

And then there followed one of the most challenging events of my military career. Fowler called another woman into the room and, while I was prodded and poked with combs, brushes, and strangely feminine looking instruments covered with what looked suspiciously like makeup, General Moore instructed me in exactly what I was and wasn't to say – which ended with me lucky if I could tell the waiting press my name. At one point the woman waved a mascara thingy at me and almost put my eye out when I reared back. I mean – mascara! What man wears mascara? For some reason General Moore, Davis and Carter found it highly amusing.

There was one good thing about the whole experience – I was so anxious to get out of there that the press conference began to seem appealing in comparison.

That was until I walked into a barrage of flashes and shouting.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Quiet!" Major Fowler shouted, a "please" tacked on to the end as an obvious afterthought. I have to hand it to her, all it took was the one command and the yells stopped. It was a pity she hadn't been with us during some of my more memorable off-world arguments with Daniel. She went smoothly into an introduction of 'Lieutenant General O'Neill' that had me wondering if I was the right person or if she had mistaken me for someone completely different – maybe the O'Neil with one 'L'. It was rather embarrassing.

Then she turned me over to them.

The problems started with the first question. Where was I stationed? I couldn't exactly say 'the Ida Galaxy' so, as I had been instructed, I muttered something about being between postings that made it sound like I was just marking time until being put out to pasture. Maybe that was a little too close to the truth. Major Fowler jumped in to explain I was 'a valued member of the Pentagon staff,' which didn't help in the slightest. And on the questions went.

The briefing notes given to the reporters before the press conference had listed some of the places I'd served – Middle East and the like – so that helped a little, but when I said I had been in command of 'Deep Space Radar Telemetry' at Cheyenne Mountain a whole forest of hands popped up. A question about an ex-Special Ops officer being in command of a scientific project led to Fowler saying I had 'wide-ranging expertise.' Now I was just waiting for the technical questions I couldn't begin to explain.

Fortunately a man at the back shouted out a question I could answer.

"What were your thoughts when you had your hand on the trigger mechanism?"

"Crap!" The gale of laughter left me with no misconception about having said that out loud. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Fowler frowning, but before she could interrupt I continued. "It was a split second decision. I didn't really have time to think anything. Major Williams defused the device within a few minutes and it was all over. He's the real hero. He knew what he was doing and the consequences of any mistake. I just happened to be in the right place to identify the threat."

"But you chose to remain even when you could have left the scene. Why was that?"

I squinted into the flashing lights, trying to pinpoint who had asked the question, but was unable to. All I could see were spots of brightness in front of a sea of faces, so I just stared vaguely in the appropriate direction. There hadn't been any possibility the subject of Garmr wouldn't arise so I decided to tackle it head on.

"I wasn't prepared to leave my dog to be blown up."

Another plethora of questions led me to explain the origin of the name 'Garmr' and that he was the surprise result of a breeding program that hadn't been successful in any other respect. No, there weren't any more like him and there weren't likely to be.

"Is there any special reason you were assigned this dog, General?"

The answer had been prepared for me. I nodded and rested my hands on the podium, dropping my voice just a touch as if I was about to share a secret. "When it was determined that the breeding program wouldn't be going ahead, a place needed to be found for Garmr. Naturally, because of his training and size this needed to be within the military. Unfortunately I made some enemies while serving in Special Operations and it was decided that he would be assigned to me for my protection." I smiled. "I've been unable to keep a dog before due to my varied postings and Garmr is the perfect solution."

"Are any of the enemies you referred to connected to the attempted assassination of Senator Kinsey?"

Although I knew it was a topic that was likely to be raised, I couldn't help frowning at the young woman who posed the question from the front row.

"No. That matter was fully dealt with. I'm afraid I can't comment further on the subject."

"We only have time for a few more questions." Major Fowler pointed at a man on the left of the room. "Gary?"

He threw the major a grateful smile. "Thanks, Margaret." Then he turned to me. "Given what you've just told us, do you think you may have been the target of the bomber, General, rather than the returning troops?"

That was something that had already been discussed with me during the debriefing after the bombing attempt – discussed and dismissed. "My visit wasn't planned in advance. I didn't know how long I would be here nor did I have a flight booked. The chances of a terrorist organization or even a single individual with a grudge being aware of my presence at Andrews yesterday and being able to organize his entry to the base would be very slim."

"You met with the President, General O'Neill?"

I gave the reporter asking the question a hard stare, wondering where she got that information, but it was too much to hope that Garmr's visit to the White House could have gone unnoticed. "Yes."

"What was the topic of conversation, if I may ask, sir?"

"Career options."

Hands waved again and I gave Major Fowler a look that I hoped conveyed my profound desire to get out of there asap.

To my surprise, General Moore stepped forward, placing a hand over the microphone. "I'll take it from here, Jack."

"Thanks, sir, I'd appreciate that."

As I stepped back, Moore straightened, put a hand up and waited for the audience to settle down. "I think General O'Neill has had to put up with enough questions in the last few hours, don't you agree? What say we give him a break? I'll take just a couple more questions and then we'll call it a day." He smiled benignly out at the crowd.

"Will General O'Neill be receiving a medal for what he did?"

What?

I waited for General Moore to shake his head, but he didn't do so. "That is a possibility, but not something I can answer at this time."

No, that couldn't be right. It wasn't like I'd done anything to deserve a medal. By some fluke, I'd seen the danger and sounded a warning. It had been Garmr and Major Williams that stopped the bomb from going off.

There were a few more questions, but they were mainly to do with the identity of the bomber, something that was still to be determined, and how he got on the base. He'd had an I.D. identifying him as a relative of one of the returning troops, but there were no links to the army sergeant that could so far be discovered. It seemed that the sergeant had been chosen more for his appearance being similar to the terrorist than for any other reason. There would be a lot more work done on the case before anything could be released to the public so Moore just gave a blanket reply that in the interests of national security nothing else could be said.

The press conference broke up within ten minutes of the general taking the microphone.

Carter had been watching from the wings and appeared at my elbow as soon as most of the seats had been vacated. "Ready to go, sir?"

It was an offer that I would have been quick to accept if it wasn't for one thing. "I'm not going anywhere until I get this gunk off of my face."

Fowler came to the rescue again with some face wipe things she had in the room backstage, but I made a quick trip to the men's room to make damned sure all the mascara was gone before I left.

General Moore came in and watched as I peered in the mirror, the same benign smile he'd given the press still plastered across his face. He looked disturbingly like General Hammond when at his most disingenuous.

"Very well done, Jack. Very well handled indeed. You've got a way with people."

I stared at him sideways. He was kidding, wasn't he? Sure, I had a way with people, but it wasn't a way I thought the Pentagon approved of. I got on with aliens, but that was because they didn't know any better.

My cell phone buzzed and I grabbed the chance to escape from the conversation.

"Excuse me, sir." Pulling it from my pocket, I glanced at the caller I.D. and gulped. "O'Neill here, Mister President." I tried to ignore the incongruity of having this conversation while standing alongside a row of urinals.

"I watched the press conference, Jack. Couldn't have done better myself. Why don't you take Garmr up to that cabin of yours for a few days – relax, do some fishing – and we'll talk again soon."

"Yes, sir." I nodded weakly into the phone.

"Good, look forward to it. Now don't go getting into any more trouble. There isn't much room left for more medals on that uniform of yours." Hayes laughed and I dutifully echoed it, a horrible feeling of inevitability creeping over me.

The thought I'd had when I slapped my hand on the trigger mechanism went through my mind again.

Crap!

TBC


	11. Bending the Truth

A/N My apologies for the length of time between updates. I've been a bit busy with Real Life issues this year, and they are not getting any better. I do have the next part all planned out and had intended it to be part of this chapter, but I decided to split it so as to get this part posted asap.

Bending the Truth

"Damn it to Hell!"

Snarling a couple of expletives after the curse, I looked at what the Air Force and local law enforcement had done to my property. There were ruts from tires running almost up to the entrance of the cabin and rubbish everywhere. Well, maybe not everywhere, but even the glimmer of what appeared to be a soft drink can poking out from a bush, coupled with some chocolate wrappers and several pieces of paper stuck in trees was enough to make my blood boil.

I expected better from my own men. It was bad enough that Hank had dragged a reluctant agreement from me to use the cabin for a bonding exercise with SG-1, despite its distance from Colorado. I honestly hadn't expected Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c to accept, and the fact they had still rankled. It had taken years of invitations before I managed to drag them kicking and screaming to Minnesota, but Landry had barely extended the invitation before they were chomping at the bit to make the trip. Of course fate had conspired to keep all but Colonel Mitchell from actually going with Hank, but that wasn't the point.

I kicked out at a rock sticking up in the middle of the driveway and muttered again at the injustice of it all as I pulled the keys from my jacket pocket. So much for a peaceful relaxing break, as ordered by the President – just filling the potholes in the entrance road would take several days unless I paid for it to be done. Days of heavy rain, coupled with the extra traffic, had turned what were normally one or two dips into pools deep enough to paddle in if I so desired.

When I spat another expletive, Garmr gave a low, reverberating growl, as if agreeing with me. Or it could have just been that he didn't enjoy getting his paws muddy.

The thing was that I didn't like people on my property. It was the one true sanctuary I had from the stress of my job and I guarded it jealously. Only a few carefully chosen friends even knew of its exact location. Or, at least, had known. From the reports I'd read it now seemed like the entire US Air Force was in on the secret.

The wet weather had obviously warped the front door a little as it needed an extra push to get it open, but we were finally inside, out of the stiff breeze that was gaining power as darkness closed in. It had taken longer to make the trip than usual, with the ford across the road at Sour Creek Junction almost too high for my rental. At times like this I wished I hadn't sold my truck.

At least the inside of the cabin was tidy – a little too tidy in fact. Even the cushions on my old leather couch were lined up in a precise row. I knew who to blame for that - Hank had always been a bit obsessive about neatness, even after graduating from the Academy. A grunt and a dull thud and Garmr solved the neatness issue by staking his claim to the entire length of the seat, his sharp claws digging into the leather as if he was ready and waiting for me to try and evict him.

I knew far better than to do that. Throwing him a glance filled with what I hoped he recognized as bitterness, I stalked into the master bedroom, dropped my bag on the floor and collapsed on the bed.

I could finally relax. The sudden release of stress was heavenly. Burrowing my head deeper into the soft pillow, I relished its familiar feeling, and took a deep breath. With the scent of wood smoke and pine came quiet whispers of my grandparents' voices, the clatter of coffee mugs and the dull thud of the stove door shutting, sealing in the ever-present baking bread. I could almost taste the warm loaves, straight from the oven, light and airy and filled with my grandmother's love.

I was home. I could forget about aliens and terrorists, politicians and press. I could kick off my shoes, wiggle my bare feet and not worry about who I would offend by the smell.

So I did. Of course my bare wiggling toes got pretty cold pretty damned quickly, and the smell was somewhat ripe, but it didn't matter. I was home.

The rumbling of a hungry stomach made me put my now decidedly chilly feet back on the floor to pad my way reluctantly to the kitchen. It took barely any time to make a sandwich with the meager supplies I had picked up when passing through Silver Creek and to drop a large lump of meat on the floor. The thud of large paws and the snicker of sharp claws heralded the arrival of my dining companion, and I watched with approval as not only every scrap of meat, but every smear of blood vanished rapidly under the onslaught of wicked teeth and a tongue long enough to seriously gross me out.

"That'll have to do until morning." Pierced by a decidedly jaundiced glare from nasty, nasty yellow eyes, I hurried into an explanation. "It's too late to drive to Stevensville now, especially with it looking like rain. The ford can get..."

Hold on one minute – what the heck was I doing? I seriously needed some proper company – something that would answer back with more than a sneer and a growl. First thing tomorrow I would drive into town and visit Simon at the bait store. I might even manage to persuade him to join me for some fishing. If worst came to worst, I could go hunting with him.

Sounded like a plan.

After swallowing the sandwich, with water to wash it down, I opened the cabin door and let Garmr out into the dark. If he wanted something else to eat he could find it himself. I was going to bed.

Of course, I couldn't sleep. What was he doing out there? Where had he gone? Not that I was worried about Garmr – more about the unsuspecting local residents, both animal and human. After wrestling with my conscience for about an hour, I left my warm, cozy bed, shivered my way to the front door and opened it.

He was on the porch, licking vigorously at his side, and pretending I didn't exist. I waited, getting colder by the second.

"Well?" I waved my hand in an invitation to enter the cabin.

The werga ignored me and twisted to lick his other side. Cold crept along my toes, up my legs and hit my knees. As I bent to rub them, Garmr's eyes flickered to me but quickly moved away again when I straightened.

"Well?" I repeated. "Are you coming in or not?"

He huffed a very, very obviously annoyed huff and stood, stretching as he did so and giving a massive yawn, then he ever so slowly wandered nonchalantly through the door.

I spent the rest of the night competing for the bed covers and swearing.

* * *

The morning was crisp, clear and beautiful. The sort of morning that makes you feel glad to be alive. Even the mess left by my esteemed colleagues didn't look so bad with the sun's light shining on it. A glance at the sky reconfirmed its cloudlessness. Looked like a break in the weather. If I bought some supplies in town and buckled down to it I could get the access road fixed in a few hours.

I grabbed Garmr's fashion accessory collar and lead and yelled. "You coming or not?" while opening the car door. Apparently he was. It took all of twenty seconds for him to push by me and jump into the vehicle. By the time I was in the driver's seat he was stretched out in the back, his front paws positioned on the door's arm rest while his nose made smeary streaks on the window glass.

I sorted out a grocery list in my mind as I drove and by the time we arrived in Stevensville I had the day planned. I'd pick up the non perishables first, store them in the trunk, and drop in on Simon and Patty at the bait store. Hopefully I'd persuade Simon to take some time off for fishing tomorrow. Once I'd done that I would get the supplies I needed for the drive repair as well as frozen food and enough meat to satisfy a hungry werga. With luck I'd be home in plenty of time to get most of the repairs done before I lost daylight.

I left Garmr asleep in the car while doing the first lot of shopping, taking as little time as possible and only releasing him after I'd packed the groceries in the trunk. Although it hadn't been hard to find a park I decided to leave the car where it was and walk the short distance down the main street to O'Neill's Bait and Hunting Emporium.

Big mistake.

This was the first time Garmr had truly been exposed to public view, if you discounted his appearance on national television, so I expected some stares. What we got wasn't stares, but glares. We turned heads all right. We also attracted mutterings, pointing and shaking heads accompanied by 'tut tut' noises. Very odd. Okay, I didn't expect a ticker tape parade – a few handshakes and smiles maybe – but this was way out of left field.

Maybe they knew about Garmr's fleas?

By the time we reached Simon's store the hair on the back of my neck was so far past standing on end that it felt like it was about to fly off. The residents of Stevensville had no idea how lucky they were that I didn't have a P-90 handy. When I pushed open the door of the bait shop and found it empty, I breathed deeply, taking a moment to calm my jangled nerves. Garmr stepped around me, clearly also looking the store over then leaned against my right leg.

There was a creak from the area behind the counter and Simon appeared, a pleasant shopkeeper smile on his face. It faltered a little when he saw me and his gaze settled on Garmr.

"Hi, Jack. When did you get in?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on Garmr.

"Yesterday. I'm only here for a few days, but I thought we could get together, maybe..." I intentionally left the sentence unfinished, leaving it up to Simon to fill in the gaps.

There was an awkward silence. Whatever the problem was, it obviously wasn't confined to strangers.

Well, I guess one thing I was renowned for was being blunt.

"What's going on?"

Simon finally looked at me, a flush of embarrassment giving his face a slightly pink tinge. "What?"

My hands flew up and I gestured toward the store's large front window. "The looks. The glares. I know I'm not around much anymore, but surely the whole 'there's a stranger in town' thing is a bit over the top?" I trapped my hands by folding them and, in an effort to look stern and no-nonsense, widened my stance.

And fell forward, landing painfully on my knees on the hard wooden floor.

Garmr collapsed across the back of my legs, the lead he had wrapped around me binding us tightly together. His weight pressed me completely to the floor and I got up front and personal with a wad of gum colored brilliant pink.

Simon could barely contain himself, his peals of laughter ringing in my ears. Even I thought it was mildly amusing. Garmr obviously did. His nose nudged my ass and a moist feeling slapped itself across it. He was licking me in places some of my ladies friends feared to go! It seemed that whatever Garmr's original intentions had been when he followed me off his planet, he had exchanged them for a plot to make me appear as ridiculous as possible in the eyes of all my friends and acquaintances.

Struggling to free myself from the lead, I appealed for help. "Stop laughing and get me loose, you unmitigated bastard!" I managed to twist enough to at least raise my head and shoulders and glare at Simon.

"Is he safe?"

It was quite clear what Simon meant, but he was getting no comfort from me. "Of course he isn't. He'll probably rip your arm off. Now, get me loose!"

"What on Earth is going on here? General O'Neill, is that you? You shouldn't fool around like that with your dog, especially in here. Simon, I'm surprised at you. What if a customer came in and saw this?"

Simon's wife, Patty, must have heard the commotion and by the tone of her voice she was completely unimpressed. Which, I felt was totally unfair. It wasn't as if I had twisted the lead around my own legs. Simon just started laughing again – louder than ever.

And Garmr gave my ass another lick.

It only took Patty a minute or two to untangle me. Simon couldn't seem to decide whether he should be stopping her in case the evil creature tore her to shreds, or finding it far too funny for words. At last Garmr and I were a suitable distance apart, me leaning against the counter surreptitiously wiping the slobber off my jeans, and Garmr being comforted by Patty.

"Are you all right?" The question wasn't directed at me. Patty was running her hands across Garmr's back and head, interspersing her examination with hard pats. The werga was loving it, his tail thrashing from side to side, rapping against a nearby shelf like a demented drum solo. "You poor thing."

Poor thing? I growled low in my throat as I rubbed my abused knees.

"So this is the highly trained attack dog, Jack?"

I looked up into Simon's grinning face. "Apparently he's having an off day."

"He's sweet," Patty crooned, "Poor sweet baby. It's lucky you didn't get hurt."

I could have sworn Garmr purred. It was disgusting.

"You must be thirsty after that fright. Why don't I see what I've got out back?" Without so much as a backward glance, the werga followed the besotted woman behind the counter and through the door.

I stared after them, totally taken aback at what had just transpired. Simon looked a little shocked too.

"Will he ... is it ...ah...?"

"Safe? Probably. Garmr has a fondness for people who provide him with food. I'm sure it'll be okay." I don't know who I was trying to reassure more, Simon or me.

He walked to the soda machine. "Want one?"

"Yeah. Anything." I gratefully took the coke he handed me and rubbed it across my forehead before popping the top and taking a long swallow. "Anyway, how about an answer to my question? Why do I feel like I'm about to be run out of town on a rail?"

"It's your dog." He stopped speaking and gave another worried glance toward the back room.

"What about him?"

Simon turned back to face me and sighed, rubbing his hand over his chin. "You know what happened up near your cabin, with your Air Force buddies?"

"You mean the attacks on hunters?"

"And Wade." His expression firmed into something less friendly.

"Hell, of course Wade. He was a good friend of mine too, Simon. What's your point?"

"They said the details were a matter of 'national security'." Simon practically spat the words at me. "That it was a large animal. We all wondered why some sort of big killer animal was a security issue and why the Air Force was running the show, but they said it had been killed so we didn't ask anything else. We buried our dead and got on with things." He had picked up a pen from the counter and was moving it between his fingers, the motion getting faster and faster as his agitation grew. "Then you were on TV and it turned out the military was experimenting with crossbreeding animals to make them into some sort of super weapon." The pen dropped with a forceful clunk on the wooden counter. "It isn't hard to put two and two together, Jack. The Air Force breeds something they can't control and it escapes, kills Mike and Wade and the others, and hushes it up." He paused for a second, then continued, his voice a little more controlled. "And you come to town. With your dog."

I didn't know what to say. They had put two and two together and made five, but I couldn't fault the logic. Put the way Simon had, it seemed completely plausible. Which meant I had a problem. At least I could start with putting things right with Simon.

"The Air Force didn't develop some mutant zombie animals and let them loose in the Minnesota woods. I can guarantee that."

I felt a pang of remorse at my careful wording. We may not have developed the deadly creatures that went on their killing spree, but we sure as hell were to blame. The Sodan cloaking device had altered the DNA of whatever poor animal it chose – a bear, an elk, who knew – but whatever it was, it had a deadly result. The Trust may have brought it to Minnesota, but the SGC brought it to Earth.

I shook off my somber thoughts, knowing full well that Garmr was not to blame and neither was I. Heck, I hadn't even been in the galaxy at the time, let alone on the planet. But I could hardly tell Simon that.

Simon wasn't so ready to accept my word. "How? How can you guarantee that? It all adds up, Jack." He shook his head. "Look, it isn't that I don't trust you. Maybe you weren't told or something. Don't you get it? It's too much of a coincidence for me to just take your word that the whole town is wrong."

After searching my brain for an answer, one he would believe, I tried again. "You know I'm a three star general now, don't you? I was given Garmr for my own protection. Do you think the Air Force would have given him to me if there was any chance of his being dangerous? The breeding program stopped there – at Garmr. There were no failed attempts, no monsters waiting to escape. And why would they have been here, of all places? The nearest Air Force base is Grand Forks. It isn't even in the state."

"You're telling me you know everything the Air Force does? Damn it, Jack, I can't even say that about my own wife!"

I wasn't getting through to him, and Simon had been my friend for years. It didn't bode well for convincing the rest of the town.

"What would it take to convince you?"

He shook his head as he answered. "I really don't know. If we'd been shown the body of the animal, or at least hadn't been treated as if everyone in Stevensville barely had two brain cells to rub together ... If the authorities had _explained_ things..."

That would have been – interesting. And extremely unlikely. Given that a truthful explanation was never going to be possible I was left with no choice but to lie. Lying was not something I liked doing, but it was hardly the first time.

After taking another long drink from the soda bottle to finish it off, I put it on the counter and turned back to face Simon, my strategy worked out.

"I wasn't in the country when all this happened, so I'm not sure of the exact details, but I doubt there was anything covert going on. They slap a 'national security' tag on just about anything these days. What if I get you, or anyone else you nominate, access to the full report on the incident?"

Simon hesitated for a moment, staring out the window at the cars passing by then nodded. "That would help, I think. I'll have to talk to the mayor, see how she wants to handle it. It helps that you're one of us. It isn't like the majority of the folks around here want to believe you have anything to do with Wade's death." He gave me a searching look. "And it isn't connected in any way to a breeding program gone wrong?"

"Nope," I stated emphatically, thankful that at least I wasn't lying about that.

"Okay." To my surprise, Simon held out his hand. "We have a deal. I'll pass the word."

I shook it, my conscience making a smile hard to summon up. "And I'm not going to be tarred and feathered?"

"Not for that anyway. Now if they knew about what you got up to in that last week of school..."

Thankful for the change in subject, I waved my hands in a dramatic show of panic. "Don't even think about it. I know fifty ways to kill a man and it only takes one..."

The arrival of a customer stopped our bickering. A short, elderly man wearing a pair of dirty overalls came through the door, stopping short when he saw me.

"Bob, good to see you," Simon said, smiling. "That rod you ordered came in." He bellowed, "Bob's here, Patty. Bring his order out."

"Just a second," came the answering shout.

"Long time, Bob."

"Jack." He nodded pleasantly enough, but without the warmth I expected from an old acquaintance. "Saw ya on the television."

"That was a good thing you did there, Jack." Simon had obviously started his campaign to get me back in the town's good books.

"Yeah, well, more luck than anything. Right place, right time and all that," I mumbled, still embarrassed by any thought of that press conference and all the associated publicity.

"Um, yep, it happens that way sometimes," Bob said, nodding. He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, opened them and was about to put one between his lips when the door to the back room opened. In a move faster than any I ever remembered seeing him make, he had the cigarette back in its packet and the packet back in his pocket before Patty had entered the main part of the store. Garmr followed close behind her, his muzzle glistening with what I hoped was nothing more than water.

"Here's your new rod, Bob." Patty handed over the large parcel she held to the man and he put it on the counter, unwrapping it with obvious anticipation.

Simon and I leaned in to watch as the rod was revealed.

"Muskie?"

Bob nodded in answer to my question. "Yep. I saw a big one a few weeks back. Got me thinking on that 54 pounder. It was a long time before that record was beat."

"Uh huh. Took forty years or more. Mid fifties, wasn't it?"

"'57, be good to beat it again. Might have a chance with this."

"Could be. When are you going?" I gave Garmr an absent-minded pat and braced myself when I felt his hard weight lean against my right leg.

"Wednesday, early. Depends on the weather." Bob hadn't looked at me yet, his attention on the various smaller items also wrapped with his new rod. "Ya want to come?"

I nodded, my bad mood lightening. "Sounds good. Not that I've got a chance against that," I said, pointing to the rod. "Still, you never know how things'll turn out."

"Ya grandpa almost did it. Caught a 52 pounder back in the sixties."

I smiled, remembering my grandfather's excitement being clear even over the telephone. Even now that mounted muskellunge dominated the wall of one of the bedrooms, its open mouth looking big enough to swallow a small dog.

Garmr took momentary pause in conversation as a chance to give me a hard nudge. He was getting bored, something I tried to avoid at all costs.

Bob finally turned his attention to something other than his fishing equipment. He and Garmr eyed each other, the interest obviously mutual.

"This that dog I heard about? Didn't figure you for needing no body-guard. Ya must be more important than I thought," Bob drawled. Then he smirked up at me, his weathered face testament to many hours spent out on the water.

I wasn't one of those fish he was so keen on catching, so I didn't bite. I just smiled evenly back. "Garmr? He's no body-guard. He's a big pussycat. His reputation is vastly inflated."

Garmr grinned, his fangs gleaming.

Which reminded me – I still needed to buy meat. After quickly making arrangements to meet Bob on Wednesday I picked up the rest of the supplies and headed back to put in a few hours of hard labor on the repairs. Simon had promised to talk to Sally Rogers, the mayor and another ex-classmate of ours. I gave myself a mental reminder to arrange for a 'creative' report on the cloaking device fiasco to be written. Perhaps Colonel Davis – he already had all the facts and he certainly had the experience, having worked in D.C. for so long. Yes, I'd suggest he be given the job.

Night was fast approaching by the time I had finished filling the potholes and making the whole length of the access road smooth enough to drive at more than one mile an hour. I had gotten so engrossed in what I was doing, enjoying getting up a sweat with hard physical work for the first time in far too long, that I had completely forgotten Garmr. Finding it strange that he hadn't bugged me for food, or even bugged me for no reason at all, I called out to him.

Ten minutes later, I was seriously concerned. The shadows had lengthened and joined. There was no moon tonight, the trees surrounding my cabin forming an impenetrable barrier of blackness.

Two hours and many scratches and bumps from stumbling around in the dark later, I was more than worried.

Garmr was nowhere to be found.

TBC

P.S. I do have a new story - an episode tag to '200'. It is an entry in the Jackfic archive annual ficathon and, under the rules, can't be posted anywhere else for a year. If you want to read it, go to the archive (listed as my homepage in my profile) and look for 'One World, Extra Small' by Flatkatsi


	12. King of the Wild Frontier

Author's Note: Sorry it's taken so long to get this part out. Many thanks to Eleri for the beta and the title. As always, all remaining mistakes are probably things I've changed/added at the last moment. This will be the last (but not the final) General Jack for a while as I have far too many other plots and far too little free time to write them.

King of the Wild Frontier

"Ummm…?"

"Wake up!"

"Wha…? Who is this?" There was a pause, then some shuffling noises. "Hello?"

"He's gone. I can't find him anywhere."

"Jack, is that you? Do you have any idea what time it is? Who's gone?"

"Who do you think? It's not like I came up here with all of the SGC. Wake up!"

There was an even longer pause then I heard a loud exhale before Daniel spoke again, his tone very controlled. "It's four in the morning. I can barely remember where I am, let alone where you are. I want to go back to sleep and unless you begin to make sense I will do so."

I took a long, deep breath of my own and fell onto the couch, a wave of tiredness washing over me. "Garmr. I've spent all night looking for him."

There was another long pause broken by, "I know the President wanted Garmr to keep a low profile, but isn't losing him completely just a trifle too low?"

I couldn't even raise a smile. "It isn't funny. He's vanished. What if he's been shot? He could be lying somewhere injured, hurt." The thought was chilling.

"Shot? Why would anyone shoot him? Don't hunters normally check what they're aiming at before they shoot it? Maybe you should start at the beginning and explain what's been going on, now that I'm a bit more awake?"

So I did some explaining. I told him the suspicions the townsfolk had about the killings nearby and the conclusions they had come to when they saw the werga on TV. I told him what I'd said to them - that they were wrong and my promise that I'd get them a full report on the incident. I told him that I would get Davis to do some creative fiction writing. Daniel muttered something that I didn't bother asking him to repeat. When I finished by explaining how I'd been caught up in the repairs to the access road and hadn't realized Garmr was missing, he finally spoke.

"It certainly sounds like you've got the situation under control. Why do you think something's happened to Garmr? Maybe he's the one doing the hunting – I'd be more worried about that."

It was a few moments before I answered as I mulled over the idea again – not for the first time either.

"I know and if that's the case, what's he hunting? It's not like he knows the difference between a farm animal and a wild one." A sudden image of a small girl wandering the woods in a red hooded cape with Garmr hot on her trail flitted across my thoughts. "Or a child."

"Oh, come on, Jack, you don't really think he'd attack someone, do you?"

"Why not, Daniel? It wouldn't be the first time he's attacked someone, would it?" I swallowed then interrupted what he was saying, "And killed."

The protest died before he really began it. "You're right. We shouldn't assume anything. After all, what do we really know about wergas?"

Rubbing my hand over my face, I slumped further into the couch before I replied. "Not much. They're not from around here." Harsh reality was raising its very ugly head. Garmr was an alien animal, one we knew very little about. What had I been thinking bringing him to Earth and letting him loose on an unsuspecting community? The locals were right to be suspicious of me. For all I knew a werga could do far more damage than the creatures altered by the Sodan cloaking device ever did.

Daniel was speaking again so I tried to concentrate.

"Do you want us to come out there? I could talk to Landry about delaying our next mission."

I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn't see me. "No, thanks for the offer, but give me a day or so. It'll be light soon and I should have more luck tracking him." That's if I hadn't trampled all the signs while bumbling around in the dark. "I'll call you tonight, okay?"

"You sure?" I could hear the worry in his voice.

"Yep, I'm sure. I'll get a couple of hours sleep, then head out again when it's light." I attempted to give my next words a positive tone. "You never know, he may be back by then, clawing at the door for food."

We exchanged a few more sentences before I ended the conversation with another denial that I needed help. Garmr was my responsibility and I would be damned if I was going to throw in the towel so soon. A few hours sleep would clear my head and I'd find him without any trouble. I would.

Unfortunately I woke to a pounding headache and no sign of Garmr. Even coffee didn't help. All it did was give me time while I drank it to think about what Daniel had said. He'd blithely dismissed my fears that Garmr had been shot, but I knew better. Accidents happened, even with experienced hunters, plus how did I know that some local wouldn't take the chance to get rid of what he saw as a dangerous dog, responsible for several deaths. I was right to be worried, so after grabbing a few essentials, including the hunting rifle I kept locked up in the cabin, I began the search.

* * *

In the early light of an overcast and dull morning it was difficult to find traces of Garmr's travels, but find them I did. All the tracking skills I had learned during my Special Ops days and more recently from Teal'c were put to good use. I followed the werga through the thick undergrowth of the forest floor, crossing streams and climbing over large rocks, each few feet an exercise in deduction. At one point I was certain I had lost the trail, only to rediscover it purely by chance on the opposite side of a particularly large evergreen. It was almost as if Garmr had taken wing and flown thirty feet sideways before walking straight through the tree's massive trunk.

By mid afternoon I was several miles from the cabin, traversing a shallow gully, the sun finally strong enough to make me uncomfortably warm. I'd eaten a quick lunch, but my stomach was telling me in no uncertain terms that it was time for more food. Glancing at my watch, I lost concentration for a second and my right foot slipped out from under me, sending me sliding the few feet to the bottom of the gully and into the shallow stream running through it.

It wasn't as if I'd hurt myself, except for a slight graze on my hand where I'd caught it on a rock protecting my rifle as I fell. It was the squelchy sound my boots made when I stood and the clammy heaviness of my jeans sticking to my legs that had me groaning loudly.

"Damn it!" I slopped over to a large rock, sat and proceeded to remove my boots. Enough water to irrigate a small African nation poured from each when I upturned them. My socks were no better, water cascading from them when I rung them out. I sat on the boulder, my footwear draped beside me in a vain attempt to dry it, and wiped the tiny drops of blood off my knuckles.

And then it rained.

Someone was definitely up there, laughing at me. I admit to swearing rather violently as I pulled on my still sodden socks and boots. Dark clouds obscured the sun once more, leaving the forest all around me dark and extremely unwelcoming.

Standing there, with nothing in sight but trees, the whole exercise struck me as futile.

"Garmr! Garmr!"

My shout had no result.

It was time to give up and go home.

* * *

It was night before I finally reached the cabin. As soon as I stepped inside, I shed my clothes, pack and rifle, leaving them lying where I dropped them, and got in the shower. Wet denim rubbing against my thighs for hours had left my skin red and raw and a hot shower had never been so welcome. I stood there, warm water cascading down me, feeling the knots easing from my muscles. The tension was leaving my body, but my mind was still a whirlwind of confused and worried thoughts. I'd spent the whole day following Garmr and hadn't caught a glimpse of him. The only consolation was that I also hadn't seen any signs of slaughtered wildlife or locals.

Loud wailing pierced through the sound of falling water and I leaped from the shower, skidding across the tiled floor of the bathroom. As I grabbed a towel the wailing changed to an undulating howl whose final long and mournful note hung in the air with an almost visible presence.

Garmr.

I flung the door open and raced out into the darkness, scanning the gloom for the werga. Nothing.

"Urgh!" My left foot landed in something warm and very squishy. I stumbled to a halt, towel hanging from one hand.

What the hell…?

A warm waft of breath ghosted across my back and I jumped about forty feet in the air, my heart thumping hard enough to power a jet plane. Coming back to earth I sought the meager protection of my towel, holding it strategically in front of me while crouching to make my body less of a target as I spun to face the threat.

Creepy yellow eyes shone in the moonlight. Fangs sparkled, dripping with drool mixed with something thick and oozing.

I stood there, shivering from the chill of the night and the now freezing water drying on my naked body, my feet and lower legs covered in god knows what, and all I could do was grin.

My happiness was short lived. Garmr grabbed my free hand, clamped down and yanked, pulling me toward the trees.

I dug my heels in and stopped, yelping when fangs won against flesh, tearing what I could only imagine were inch long gashes in the back of my left hand. Whether it was my yell or my obvious reluctance to venture into the darkness without any form of protection - and here weapons took a back seat to clothes and footwear - I didn't know, but Garmr released his grip. I could just make out the huge mass of his body as he sat beside me, his head cocked to one side.

Wrapping my dignity in my towel, I held my hand as close to my eyes as possible, peering at it. Sure enough, I could just make out two dark patches of blood on my palm with matching spots on the back of my hand.

I couldn't even muster the energy to shout.

"If I ask what's going on, I don't suppose I can expect an answer, can I?"

Garmr moved his head forward, bumping it into my stomach. I took the gesture to be as close to an apology as a werga could get, but I couldn't find it in my heart to forgive him completely, not with some unidentified dead something lying in a heap just behind my heels.

The first order of business was a flashlight.

Or clothes?

Or bandages?

Maybe shoes?

Another shower?

"For crying out loud!" Throwing my hands up, completely accepting that my towel was totally inadequate cover for the situation, I stomped as stompily as I could with bare feet back into the cabin. Less than two minutes under the shower, a cursory wipe over with a clean towel, clothed and shod, I headed back out, a flashlight clutched in my non-bleeding hand.

* * *

It was grey. It had stripes. It was furry. It was the size of a large dog, with teeth that rivaled Garmr's in size and claws the length of knitting needles. And it had a cute little bandit's mask.

The very dead squishy object lying in my drive, although missing a back leg and a good chunk of stomach, was unmistakably a mutant monster raccoon.

Crap!

I turned the light onto Garmr. He was standing slightly to one side of the path, chewing on something. Guess I'd found the missing leg. As soon as the beam hit him he turned his head and I swear he grinned at me. I stood still, my brain cycling through the events of the past few hours. I didn't like where my thoughts were going. After almost a year of the werga's company I was beginning to get an inkling of how his mind worked.

Back I went into the cabin. After slopping some disinfectant on my hand, I wrapped it in an awkward one-handed bandage, slipped on a warm jacket, grabbed my rifle and extra ammunition and my cap. I hesitated for a moment, holding my cell phone. Technically I should call the SGC at the very least, if not the Pentagon, and get some teams out ASAP, but I didn't. Instead I left the cell on the coffee table. My neighbors had had their lives disrupted enough by something they never invited into their quiet county. This was my problem to solve.

* * *

Dawn found us several miles from where I'd given up the search the afternoon before, moving through some thick undergrowth. My eyes were on Garmr. He moved silently, his massive bulk making no sound as he stepped on rotten branches and brushed by dry leaves. It made me shiver just watching him. Gone was the galumphing clown and in his place was the most efficient hunter I'd ever seen. I followed along behind, trying to copy him. It was impossible, a fact made plain when he turned his head and pierced me with a glare, sighing deeply and very dramatically. The sighs were the only sound he made.

I was beginning to feel like I was following Bra'tac rather than a werga. All that was needed was a thinly veiled 'human' insult to complete the resemblance. Fortunately speaking wasn't one of Garmr's abilities.

At least I didn't think it was.

Shaking the terrifying thought away, I pushed on, pausing only momentarily to turn off the flashlight and slip it into my jacket pocket.

It was just over an hour later that Garmr stopped, standing dead still. Immediately copying him, I halted, careful to make no noise, and listened. Just on the edge of my hearing there was a low snuffling then a scraping sound as if something was moving the dry debris of the forest floor. Garmr's head turned and he gave me look that conveyed 'this was what I was trying to show you', 'be quiet' and 'let me handle it' all at once.

I got it – really I did.

And it wasn't anything I did that caused what happened next. For once it wasn't my fault.

Garmr's tail brushed a bush, knocking something in the process. It wasn't a loud noise, in fact I was barely able to hear it, but it was enough. The slight rustle made us both freeze.

There was nothing but silence in the forest. No snufflings. No scrapings. The silence lasted long seconds, seconds in which my gaze shifted constantly, hunting for any movement without making any of my own. Just in front of me I knew Garmr was doing the same.

Then the foliage erupted, spewing forth a blur of grey, black and teeth. Looking like creatures from a slice and dice horror film, they attacked. Me.

Why me? I wasn't the one who had torn their den mate to shreds. But then again, they obviously saw me as the weak link, standing there with no obvious protection. I suppose that given the choice between me and the four legged killing machine with the giant fangs, I would have gone for me too.

Except I wasn't defenseless. My rifle was already in position, so I let them have it. All three mutant raccoons bit the dirt and stayed there.

Garmr and I stood there for a few more seconds, staring at the bodies, then he moved forward and nudged each one in turn. On getting no reaction from them, he spun to stare at me and curled his lips back, growling low in the back of his throat.

Boy, was he pissed.

"Well, sorry I spoiled your fun. Next time I'll let them maul me a bit before I shoot them," I snarled back. "Then maybe you'll have time to join in."

He ignored me, choosing instead to return to the carcasses. It was my turn to look away when he clapped down on the biggest one's stomach and began ripping chunks out of it.

Muttering, "I'll just be over here," I pulled my flashlight out again and walked in the direction the creatures had come from, trying to ignore the chewing noises coming from behind me. It didn't take long to find what I was looking for – their den, in a large tree stump – complete with the remains of many small animals. Bones and scraps of fur were scattered for several feet around the den's entrance. I recognized rabbits and chipmunks, even beavers and foxes.

These were seriously kick-ass raccoons.

I poked around some, looking at the tracks and other signs to confirm that there had been no more than four of the mutants. It seemed like we had accounted for all of them. Four raccoons from the cast of 'Day of the Animals', a movie I was sorry I'd ever wasted good money to see, had clearly set up home, spending the winter eating the native wildlife and keeping to themselves.

Unfortunately for them Garmr had been bored.

I would arrange to have the whole area checked for the radiation signatures left by any remaining creatures altered by the Sodan cloaking device. We had been lucky the raccoons had confined their kills to what they'd found in the immediate vicinity and hadn't ranged further afield into more populated areas. We couldn't risk any more mistakes.

Steeling myself, I returned to the site of the attack. Garmr had finished his meal and was now just lying there, his head on his paws and his eyes drooping. His tail thumped a couple of times, then he shut his eyes. The poor dear was plainly exhausted from all his excursions. I was not sympathetic. I'd had very little sleep, no food for hours, and a long hike.

Plus I'd managed to slay three mutant killer creatures.

Feeling a little less disgruntled at the thought, I smiled to myself as I surveyed the carnage. Apart from the one Garmr had snacked on, the animals were virtually unmarked, with just a single bullet hole in each.

By the time Garmr was awake again I'd skinned and butchered the raccoons. One thing my grandfather taught me was not to waste good meat. I securely attached the bloody bundles to Garmr's back, ignoring his vain attempts at biting me. Sure, I knew that if he really wanted to he could have stopped me, but he probably was as keen to keep the meat as I was to keep the skins.

When I was five, I'd wanted a 'coonskin hat like Davy Crockett. I'd have given anything for one of those hats, but my dad had refused my heartfelt pleas. I pictured the look on my old team mates' faces when I came waltzing in wearing my hat.

Thank goodness I had more sense than when I was five. The skins would go back with me, far away from anyone who had even heard a whispered rumor of weird animals in the Minnesota woods. Yes, they would come with me to Washington.

I sighed deeply.

Garmr looked up at me, his head cocked to one side as if he was asking a question. I thumped him reassuringly on the back and trudged on. There was plenty of time left before we had to face the reality of my new position. We would spend it relaxing, just as I'd planned. I would fish. Garmr would create havoc. All would be good.

For a while at least.

The End


	13. Terminus

Author Note: Yes, finally a new chapter. Please let me know if you enjoy it. It isn't the last, because there are a lot more stories to tell about General Jack.

Terminus

"Good morning, Sergeant Kelly." I smiled at one of the men behind the security desk, waiting for him to give me the sign in sheet.

The sergeant smiled back. "Good morning, General. It's good to see you again. Are you in town for long?" The sheet signed and returned, he typed something into his computer and stood, a scanner in his hand. I placed my palm on it and waited for the beep of approval.

"Unfortunately, yes. I've been assigned here again." It was impossible to keep the despondency from my voice. The scanner beeped and I moved forward to put my briefcase on the conveyor belt before stepping through the metal detector and collecting it on the other side. There was no need to worry, there was nothing but reports inside the case, nothing but far too much supposedly urgent paperwork.

"Sorry to hear that, sir." The other security personnel shot Kelly a startled look, but I just gave a small nod of unspoken agreement and moved on, following the rest of the arriving staff to an almost full elevator. The air inside the small space was close and far too personal. We all stood, avoiding each others' eyes, pretending we were in our own special place.

Suck it up, Jack. You knew this was looming like a large black cloud in your future. With General Hammond's retirement it had become inevitable. The President had warned me, but now it had actually happened.

Head of Homeworld Security.

It could have been worse. I could be heading for the pokey little office in Procurement where I had been sent as punishment a couple of years ago. This wasn't punishment. It wasn't. Really. It was an honor.

One plus, I thought as I left the elevator and waved my ID card in front of the reader at the side of the door to my department, was that I had one of the better offices in the building. I always envied George's view when I was stuck many floors underground at the SGC. Now it was mine.

Chairs scraped and a chorus of voices said, "Good morning, General O'Neill." Something else I had inherited, along with the view, was George's staff. I saw no reason to change them. They knew me and I knew them. No need to break in anybody new.

My aide, Captain Brookford, picked up an alarmingly large pile of papers and gave a vague wave toward my office. "Good morning, sir. Colonel Davis is standing in for you in the monthly meeting with the CIA and Homeland Security." He continued as we walked forward. "You have a meeting with the Joint Chiefs in an hour. They will want an update on this." Waiting until I settled myself into my chair, he placed a thick red-covered file in front of me.

"And that is?"

"The latest research results from Section 5."

"Ah." I nodded in understanding. I had not only inherited an office with a view and very competent staff from George Hammond, I'd also found myself in charge of some extremely peculiar facilities I had only heard vague rumors of before I took the position. From a seemingly pleasant small town to a vast warehouse in the middle of the desert, they were all my responsibility. I'd only been in the job a few days and was swamped by the sheer amount of work I had ahead of me, but I needed to fit in some visits to these places. Just reading about them wasn't enough.

Forty-five minutes and two cups of coffee later I was as ready as I'd ever be, my head overfilled with facts and figures. Twisting my neck a few times to loosen muscles aching from looking down too long, I yawned, loud and wide. It didn't do to look half asleep when meeting with your superiors. I stretched again and stood, walking around the desk to open my briefcase.

Everything went all tingly and wavy.

For a split second I thought I was having a stroke, then my vision cleared and I knew exactly what had happened. It was still a shock though.

"Greetings, O'Neill," Thor said, his hand raised in welcome.

"Thor," I replied, my thoughts racing. "It's been a while."

He blinked his large eyes, clearly sensing from my tone that I was not a happy camper. "I am sorry, O'Neill. I returned as soon as I could."

"Not to the Alpha Base, you didn't. You left me sitting in Pierce's office with no explanation. Why wasn't I warned about the Ghi'tain? What was it all about?" I went from annoyed to angry in the space of a few short seconds, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "Do you have any understanding of how I felt right then?"

He just blinked.

"Didn't it occur to you that I left Orilla because I couldn't trust you anymore?"

"Me, O'Neill?"

I turned on my heel and stared at the beautiful, and normally spellbinding, view of my own planet. All I could see were long claws and tongues and all I could feel was the acid bite of webs.

"You, your race, whatever." I turned back to face him. "You. My friend. At first I thought you had nothing to do with it. Then, the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I had been wrong. What was the real reason I was brought to Orilla? I doubt it was for my ambassadorial skills. It wasn't like I was allowed to do anything, was it? What were you hiding? Was I wrong to put my trust in you, Thor?"

"I have never lied to you, O'Neill."

"Lying by omission is still lying." I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. "Okay, let's start with something easy. Why wasn't I warned about the Ghi'tan?"

"The danger was uncertain. Kleminstad-"

I interrupted, shaking my head. "Kleminstad. Didn't do a good job of warning me, did he? Threw me to the wolves instead. I hope he was at least demoted for doing a piss poor job."

Thor blinked again before he answered. "He was not demoted."

"Typical." Taking a few steps to a nearby console, I leaned against it, my anger growing. "So why exactly didn't he warn me that my new playmate was the leader of a gang of space traveling vampire bugs?"

"He died."

My tirade came to a screeching halt. For the first time I stopped and really looked at Thor. He seemed thinner, diminished somehow. When he blinked up at me again, I knew there was something far more serious happening here than my hurt feelings.

"What's going on?"

"Much is going on, O'Neill. There is much I must tell you and little time in which to do it." He turned and began walking toward a door across the room. His strides were even more awkward than they usually were.

"Wait."

He stopped and turned back to face me. "Will you not listen to my explanation, O'Neill?" Could I hear a note of hurt in his tone? I wasn't sure.

"Yes, I'll listen to you, but I need to contact my superiors and let them know where I am. I was on my way to a meeting. My staff will have reported me missing by now."

"I understand. You may use this console." A group of lights blinked on the grey metal as he passed his hand over them. "Whom do you wish to speak with?"

"General Maynard."

"Very well. Stand here," he pointed to a spot a foot or so to my left and waited until I had moved before making another gesture over the lights.

I found myself standing in my own office at the Pentagon, the walls of the Asgard ship still surrounding me. General Maynard, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, was behind my desk, sifting through the pile of papers with Captain Brookford standing close to his right shoulder. Before I could speak Brookford looked up, his gasp of surprise drawing Maynard's attention to my hologram.

"Sir, I'm on an Asgard ship," I reported. "Thor had me beamed up so he could explain a few things."

Maynard nodded, his concerned expression easing. "I'm glad to hear that, General O'Neill. Things were a little tense here when it was realized you had disappeared from your office. How long will you be?"

"I can't really say just yet, sir. Excuse me for one moment." Turning to Thor, I repeated the chairman's question.

"I will return you to Earth soon, General O'Neill," his voice was raised slightly so that Maynard could hear it.

Maynard nodded. "Very well, Supreme Commander." He looked at me. "I'll expect you to report to me for a debriefing as soon as you return, General."

"Certainly, sir," I replied, then addressing my still stunned looking aide, I asked him to clear my schedule for the rest of the day. I had barely finished speaking when my office vanished and I knew the communication with Earth had been cut.

"I am sorry, O'Neill, but we have much to discuss. Will you please come with me?"

He moved toward the door again. I followed him to a small room containing one Asgard and one human chair, but nothing else. We sat and the silence lasted until it became uncomfortable as Thor stared at me, as if trying to read something in me. What, I didn't know. For once I decided to let someone else make the first move.

"There is something you did not know."

I couldn't help a sarcastic snort at the understatement, but Thor carried on as if I hadn't made a sound.

"You are unique. You have survived two Ancient downloads and the gene is stronger in you than any member of any species we have encountered. We had hoped you would be the savior of our race."

"I know that. I also know it didn't work out that way," I interjected, but Thor ignored me and continued.

"Within you there was something our scientists had never seen before. Something, some element they could not identify. We needed to test this, to combine it with our own DNA to see if it was the key to our survival."

My heart sank a little. "And that's why you wanted me to go to Orilla with you."

Thor blinked a third time, a sign I took to be disagreement. "No. You are my friend, Jack. I took you to my home to help you and if you could help us then that would have been welcome, but never think it was the primary reason for my actions." This time he actually did shake his head. "However, the new discovery was not made until you were treated in our facilities for your illness. Your body chemistry had changed."

My emotions went from pleasure to disappointment within two sentences.

"Unfortunately my duties took me from our planet before I could discuss this with you. I left instructions for our chief geneticist, Kleminstad, to ask for your help."

"What happened?"

"We had been suspicious of the Ghi'tain for many years. They have always been a secretive race. Never before had one approached another species in the way the ambassador approached you. The High Council decided to keep you on Orilla for your own protection."

"More like to protect their precious resource, you mean." Sitting back, I crossed my arms and shut my eyes for a moment, wondering just how much I could believe of what my supposed friend was telling me.

"Yes, that is true."

I opened my eyes again, surprised at the admission. "Go on, tell me the rest."

"Kleminstad was to warn you of the danger the Ghi'tain presented, but he was taken ill. The Council chose to keep you ignorant of your importance to us." He hesitated, then spoke again. "They do not know you as I do, O'Neill. They were concerned you would assist the Ghi'tain instead of the Asgard."

"Assist the Ghi'tain?"

"They too are dying. We have since found that they have been harvesting humans with the Ancient gene for centuries to prolong their life span."

"That's what they were doing to me on their ship." I couldn't conceal a shudder. "Harvesting. . ." I felt sick. To think I let one of them into my home. . .

Thor pressed a button on the arm of his chair and spoke a short burst of Asgard. "I have requested we be brought water and some other refreshments."

It was less than a minute before the door swished softly open and one of the crew placed a tray on a small table that rose from the floor between us. Pouring myself a glass of water, I gratefully sipped it, letting the nausea retreat.

At least I now had an explanation for the way I had been treated, even if I didn't like it. I held the glass between my hands, the coolness on my palms helping to calm me a little.

"So," I said decisively, "I can help. Take what you need." I fixed Thor with a stare and repeated my words. "Take whatever you need." I knew what I was offering, but if it came down to a choice between a whole race and just one insignificant general there was only one right thing to do.

"I thank you, O'Neill, but it is too late. Kleminstad could not complete his experiments before he died. The High Council ordered another route be taken, one that was of much more risk. What we thought had succeeded, had failed."

I leaned forward until our knees were almost touching. "What happened?"

"Soon we will all be gone. The experiment failed. A disease was created instead and it is rapidly progressing. Kleminstad was the first death of many. Our degeneration will be swift and irrevocable. Nothing can be done to stop it."

No. His words took my breath away, leaving me none to deny what I was hearing.

"I came here to say farewell, O'Neill. Soon I will contact the SGC and ask them to come to Orilla to receive the store of Asgard knowledge that will be our legacy to the human race." He bent forward, his hand reaching out to touch my knee. I could feel his spindly fingers press against the fabric of my trousers. "I would ask you to also come to Orilla, to bear witness to our end."

I shook my head, still unable to speak.

"We cannot allow our technology to fall into the hands of those such as the Ori or be discovered in the future by races unable to properly understand the dangers. We will not make the same mistake the Ancients did when they left this physical existence. There is only one possible solution. We will destroy all Asgard planets and bases, and ourselves along with them."

My words finally broke free. "No. You can't do this." I rose, my hands flying out, beseeching him to reconsider. "There must be another way."

"There is not."

"You're talking about mass suicide." My voice shook and I was barely able to continue. "I can't, I won't allow that."

"It is not your choice to make, Jack. I would have thought you, of all people, would understand."

And with that my anger sparked into a raging fire. "Yes, I understand. I also understand that it's wrong. I was saved from my own actions by a twist of fate and I've never regretted it. There was another solution for me. There always is another solution." My voice rose to a shout. "Damn it, Thor, this is WRONG!"

He stood, putting his hand out to stop me, and I realized I had been furiously pacing across the small space. I halted a few feet from him and waited, still seething with emotions that were fast overtaking me.

"It is done, Jack. It is done." He spoke unemotionally, as if he was talking about the least important thing in the universe. Instead of the most important.

"No." I shook my head again. "No."

"Will you come to farewell us?"

"No, don't ask that of me. No."

"Then we must say goodbye."

I knelt, enfolding his bony body in my arms. "Please don't do this."

He pressed himself into me and I felt a tiny shiver, a trace of emotion as his body betrayed what his words did not. All he said was, "It is done."

I pulled back. "Then send me home."

We walked together back to the control room and he raised his hand in farewell.

"Goodbye, my friend."

There was nothing I could say. I just lifted my own hand to echo his gesture and the beam took me away.

Instead of the Pentagon, I found myself in the house I had recently bought in Arlington, standing in the middle of my lounge room. Garmr trotted in from the kitchen and I knelt on the carpet, held him tight, and wept for what I had lost, crying from the anguish of being unable to stop the inevitable.

And for Supreme Commander Thor.

My friend.

The End


End file.
